


I'm Just a Part of You

by Firecadet



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Gen, Investigations, Mystery, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 15:03:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17900375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firecadet/pseuds/Firecadet
Summary: While investigating a serial killer on Deep Space Nine, Ezri Dax, Station Counsellor, is found in an extremely compromising position and arrested on suspicion of murder.All of the physical evidence points to her, and her behaviour appears erratic. Can her friends dig deeper and discover the truth behind the crimes?Inspired by DS9 7x13 "Field of Fire"'s final sequence, and drawing on elements from the Lives of Dax.





	1. Arrested

It was all too much. Joran’s presence in her mind was urging her to pull the trigger. To glory in taking a life. The Vulcan’s rifle was swinging up towards his shoulder. What she could see through the yellow-tinged display told the Trill she had moments to act. Moments to take her shot.

Ezri Dax froze, just for an instant.

Then the door behind her hissed open, the sudden sound jolting her body into motion, almost without thought. Her rifle wasn’t quite aligned perfectly, but her left index finger closed around the trigger, discharging the rifle. The bullet vanished, reappearing just inches in front of the Vulcan, Chu'lak, if she remembered his name from the file she’d just been looking at. He twisted, dropping his weapon on the floor.

And then she heard a very familiar growl from behind her.

“Lieutenant Dax, drop your weapon, now.” Odo said. Without thinking she released the rifle, dropping it to the floor, where the advanced 24th century technology didn’t go off on impact. Through the goggle, she’d seen the Vulcan staggering towards his weapon.

Then Odo grabbed her, and before she could react, he’d knocked her legs out from under her and was pushing her to the floor. A puddle of Odo broke her fall, right before he twisted her hands behind her back. With tears rolling down her face, Ezri waited for the shot that she was sure would come. Instead, Odo handcuffed her, placing her arms parallel across her body, before fastening the cuffs around her wrists, leaving her arms almost completely useless. She could change which arm was above and below and move them slightly side to side. That was it.

Then he dragged her to her feet, in a motion that would have even left Emony off-balance, before marching her down the corridor. Her head dropped, as she realised that she was being arrested. 

“I didn’t do it, Odo.” She pleaded, as they approached the promenade. “It wasn’t me.

“We’ll settle that soon enough, Lieutenant.” Odo grated, activating his combadge. “Odo to Sisko. I’ve apprehended the sniper. And I think you’re going to want to talk to them yourself.”

“ _Sisko here. What were they doing?_ ”

“Taking another shot. I interrupted them.”

Ezri didn’t know what to say. Benjamin… Ben… Captain Sisko… he was going to find out.

“ _Odo…_ ” Sisko asked. “ _Who is the sniper?_ ”

“Sir… I’m afraid that the person I caught in the act was Lieutenant Dax.”

“ _What?_ ” Even though it wasn’t coming through her combadge, Ezri could hear the utter shock and dismay in the voice of her oldest friend.

“She was in the Operations centre meeting room. She fired just as I entered.”

“Ben…” Ezri almost whispered. “I didn’t do it.”

“ _Dax…_ ” Sisko said. “What’s going on?” His voice was low, and she could tell he was dealing with emotions too.

Jadzia would have had a flippant response. Curzon would have been ironic.

Ezri suddenly found that the words wouldn’t come any more.

Closing the connection, Odo continued marching her to the cells, before scanning her with a tricorder. He removed everything from her pockets, including the lighter she’d used as part of the rite of emergence, along with her combadge. There was a pause, before Odo spoke.

“I’m going to need your uniform, I’m afraid.” He said, releasing the handcuff from her right arm, while keeping hold of the left.

Ezri stared at him, feeling as if her skin had suddenly caught fire. It seemed like every single part of her entire body was suddenly flushing with embarrassment. Then, remembering her time in the academy, she steeled herself, before stripping out of her uniform jacket and trousers. Odo (looking away, as if that mattered for him at all) took them, gravely, and dropped them into an evidence bag. Before anything else, one of them ran a tricorder over her hands, before taking samples using a cotton bud.

A female Bajoran deputy handed her a bright blue one-piece, once that was complete. She was given time to pull it on, before Odo twisted her arms back behind her back, fastened the handcuffs and marched her, without any of his usual warmth, into the corridor featuring the cells. He led her down it, and placed her in a cell, before stepping away, then activating the security forcefield. He just left her there, staring through the security field, very aware that she was now the prime suspect in a serial killing investigation.

Slumping awkwardly onto the bench, Ezri looked over at Joran. The other Trill just smirked.

“You know, I never let them catch me.” He said, in his oh-so-charming voice. “I was never that careless.”

“No.” Ezri said, as cuttingly as she could. “One of your victims fought back and killed you instead.”

“That Vulcan is still alive, you know.” Joran said. “He’s probably watching you through his targeting sensor. He’s probably going to shoot at any moment.”

“Shut up!” Ezri shouted.

Joran just smiled, and she lashed out with a boot, trying to kick him.

Her boot went straight through, of course. Trying to kick figments of your imagination was never going to work, her rational mind said. The bit that was Curzon and Jadzia, on the other hand, seemed to approve of the effort.

Then she spotted a small mirror. It was one of the standard fittings of her cell. Although it wasn’t large, she could see a reflection in it. Of Joran.

Staring into it, she tried to clear her mind. “I'nora, ja'kala vok.” She began, focusing on the words that would leave her alone in her mind. “Zheem Dax... nah sass-eye-ahn… D'za-oo bah-zheest...”

Then Sisko marched into the room, wearing a red robe with a purple undershirt. The expression on his face was thunderous, even compared to the time Curzon had detached an Orion dancer from his lap. The old man had thought it funny to lure her away from the human. Sisko had loudly disagreed the next day at the briefing.

“He blames you.” Joran hissed. “See how easily he wants to throw away all your years of friendship.”

“Shut up.” Ezri hissed, before remembering that talking to an invisible person wasn’t normally considered acceptable off Trill. On Trill, it went entirely unremarked unless objects were thrown.

Sisko gave her a look. “Ok, Old Man. What’s going on?”

“I was investigating, Benjamin.” Ezri responded. “I was trying to get inside the head of the killer. The Vulcan… he had a TR-116 and exographic targeting array too.”

“We didn’t find anything like that when the medical team got to his quarters. You came within three inches of killing him.”

“I swear he had them.” Ezri insisted.

“He won’t believe you.” Joran commented snidely. “He can only see what’s in front of his face.”

Then Sisko turned and looked over his shoulder. “Odo, why didn’t you take the cuffs off when you put her in the cell?”

“Because I took a knife off of her yesterday, Captain.” Odo replied. “And because I’m not sure that is our Dax sitting in that cell.”

“Odo, what do you mean by that?” Sisko asked, a warning growl in his voice. “Do you think she’s a Changeling?”

“No, Captain.” Odo said, his voice level, almost mournful. “When I sent a team to check her quarters, they found a lot of strange paraphernalia in them. Like the paraphernalia the Guardian bought for the Zhian'tara.”

“You think Ezri tried to perform a Zhian'tara or something on herself… and Joran got control?” Sisko asked, cradling his head in his hands. “You think…?”

“Not all the time, Captain.” Odo continued. “Several people have reported her arguing with no-one over the last two days. As if she was having a conversation with someone they couldn’t see.”

“Dax?” Sisko asked. “What did you do?”

Ezri couldn’t bring herself to admit it to her closest friend. She just looked away, closing her eyes silently. “Joran Tanas Rhem. Vok Ezri…” She mouthed, silently. “I was trying to catch the killer.” She repeated, awkwardly wriggling into the corner of the bunk in the cell and pulling her legs up to her chest. That bit was all Ezri Tigan, she thought, ironically.

“If you tell him about me, he might forgive you.” Joran said. “He might even let you out of this cell.”

“Yes.” She said, out loud. “I… used a Trill ritual called the Rite of Emergence. He’s been walking around with me. Giving me insights…”

“Affecting your personality.” Sisko completed. “I’d never seen any Dax lose it like you did in Quark’s. Even Jadzia wouldn’t have gone for a knife, never mind nearly stabbed someone.”

“He compares you to her.” Joran gloated. “He’d rather he had her back.”

“SHUT UP!” Ezri yelled into the corner of her cell that Joran was occupying. “Stop trying to make me angry! Stop trying to make me into YOU!” Then she dropped her head so that her face was resting on her knees and tried to hold back the tears.

Sisko flinched backwards, before tapping his combadge. “Sisko to Bashir. Please report to the security office.”

A couple of minutes later, Bashir arrived, carrying a medical tricorder. He looked extremely startled at the sight of a securely handcuffed and out of uniform Ezri sitting in a cell sobbing, while his commander stood outside in his pyjamas.

“Doctor, what do you know about personality conflicts and takeovers in joined Trill?” Sisko rumbled, without preamble. “Odo just found her in the Ops meeting room, holding a TR-116 and wearing an exographic targeting array. He was unable to stop her shooting a Vulcan officer in the habitat ring just after he entered the room.”

“I… don’t believe there is any available literature on the subject, sir.” Bashir replied, barely holding in his utter shock, and entirely unable to keep it off of his face. “I could contact the Trill Symbiosis Commission for details, but I’m not sure how much they would tell me.”

Sisko’s eyes narrowed as Bashir mentioned the Symbiosis Commission. Ezri remembered Jadzia’s memories of the first time Joran had gotten past the memory block and shuddered at the thought. Her memories of Audrid told her that this would be an incredibly bad idea.

“Ben…, Julian…” She said, lifting her head. “Don’t tell them. Please.” From his expression, she could tell that Sisko could see the fear in her eyes. “They’ll send Gard.” Then she slumped back into her corner, ignoring the smirk on Joran’s face as he watched her.

“Can you convince me I’m talking to Ezri, Old Man?”

“No, Benjamin. I can’t.” Ezri said, twisting slightly as she tried to get more comfortable. “I… am in control. Joran is not.”

Sighing, Sisko gestured to Odo. “Constable, let her out of those things for now. At least let her get comfortable.”

“You’re sure, Captain?”

“Yes, Constable.”

Sighing, Odo deactivated the forcefield securing the cell, before crossing over to Ezri. She felt her cheeks colour slightly when she realised that her position actually prevented Odo letting her out. She shuffled awkwardly around, before standing up.

“He’s never going to believe you didn’t do it, you know.” Joran said. “Wait till he lets you go and kill him with them.”

“Shut. Up.” Ezri hissed, turning to allow Odo to unfasten the handcuffs. She wriggled her shoulders, releasing the knots in her shoulders that had already started to build up. And then she spun around, grabbed the handcuffs from Odo, and threw them through Joran. “Go Away. I don’t want to hear you say anything!” She shouted.

Then she slumped onto the cell’s bunk, tucking herself into a corner again, and tucking her legs against her chest.

Bashir had watched the entire exchange. “If she was a species that I had significant psychiatric data for, I’d say she was having a mental breakdown, sir.”

Sisko sighed, loudly. “Doctor, in your opinion, is she a threat to herself or others in her current state?”

“If she was a…” Bashir paused. “I don’t know, sir. If I knew more about joined Trill psychology…”

“Knowing that she nearly stabbed another Starfleet officer yesterday after intervening to stop him fleeing station security?”

Bashir shook his head slightly. “Sir… I do not believe that Ezri… Lieutenant Dax should be confined to the brig. However…” he sighed, deeply. “We do not have any other secure place where she can straightforwardly be monitored and prevented from…” he stopped talking, but everyone heard the unspoken “trying to hurt people or herself.”

“Understood, Doctor.” Sisko responded. “I’m sorry, Old Man.”

Ezri didn’t respond.

Shaking his head, Sisko led the way out of the brig, leaving Ezri alone in the Cardassian cell. She didn’t even notice for several minutes.


	2. Under Suspicion

Perhaps ten minutes later, Bashir returned, pushing what looked like one of Quark’s serving trollies. It bore a duvet, two pillows and a small viewer.

“Julian…” she chided, without really thinking. “You shouldn’t…”

“Ezri, I know you’re not Jadzia. You’re your own person. At least let me make you more comfortable in there.”

“He’s sweet on you.” Joran commented, standing between them. “I suppose he isn’t entirely unattractive, by human standards, but he isn’t special. I don’t know what you see in him either.”

In response, Ezri pulled a shoe off her feet, and threw it through the smirking projection, where it crackled off the security field on an almost direct trajectory towards Bashir’s head. “I DON’T WANT YOU HERE! JUST STOP BOTHERING ME!” She shouted.

Bashir took several steps back from the cell.

“If that’s how you feel, Lieutenant Dax, that’s up to you.” He said, stiffly and formally. “I won’t push any comforts on you that you obviously don’t care about.” He turned, leaving the trolley loaded with comforts, which she now saw also included a small stand for the viewer.

“JULIAN!” She shouted. “I WASN’T AIMING AT YOU!”

And then she curled up, and finally let all of the tears flow out. It was surprisingly cathartic, even for a trained counsellor. She’d liked Hector Ilario, even if he had been… she blushed slightly at the thoughts. She’d been tempted. The parts of her that were Jadzia and Curzon had positively encouraged her to enjoy herself. And then her mind dragged out the picture of him lying on the floor, cold and dead, with a hole in his chest. It beat her with the thoughts of what might have happened if she’d stayed with him that night. She might have saved him. They might have gone to her quarters instead. She also saw another image, of her own body… half-clothed, with him lying across her, having tried to shield her in their last moments

She just wished she had access to that freshly replicated, soft, warm duvet to curl up in, and block out the world with.

“I hate you.” She shot at Joran. “I hate what you make me do!”

“Make you do, dear Ezri?” Joran commented. “I didn’t make you throw a boot at me. I’m just a part of you. A memory. You’ve made every single decision on your own.”

Glaring at the mirror, she began trying to put Joran back in his ‘box’ again. “I'nora, ja'kala vok…” She recited, before the doors slid open, and she looked through them to see Sisko, this time in uniform, looking through them at her.

“I thought you had things under control, Old Man.” He said, using his special ‘I am disappointed’ voice that he seemed to have developed for use on Jadzia. The memory actually made her smile.

“Julian… tell him I’m sorry. Joran…”

To her surprise, Sisko actually opened the forcefield keeping her in the cell, and pushed the trolley in, before helping her unload. It didn’t take long. He also handed her another small device that she recognised as an old-style communicator. The case appeared to be slightly reinforced and padded, as if it was designed for a psychiatric hospital.

“If you need anything, this will get you Odo or me.” He explained. “We’re not going to act as your butlers, but we want to make this as easy as possible for everyone.” He paused and lowered his voice. “We know you took Ilario back to his quarters. Did anything… happen?” He asked, slowly. “Did he… try to make something happen?”

Ezri shook her head. “I… thought about staying the night, Ben. I really did. But I didn’t. And nothing happened.” She was surprised by how much her voice was shaking as she spoke. “I didn’t kill anyone, Ben. You don’t need to make excuses for me.”

He just squeezed her shoulder for a second. Then he stepped out of the cell, and reactivated the forcefield, leaving Ezri alone again. She just nestled under the new, warm and soft duvet, curling up in it and wrapping it around herself. She curled up into a ball, needing the security and comfort of a ‘nest’, and tried to fall asleep.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

From the monitor, Kira breathed a sigh of relief, and put down her phaser. “That was a risk, Captain.” She scolded Sisko.

“I know, Colonel.” Sisko replied evenly. “I still don’t know for sure.”

“You think that Joran… might be in control?” Kira asked. “Even though Dax didn’t try to escape?”

“I had him in my head for a while, Kira.” Sisko explained. “Joran is patient. He’s cunning. He killed three people, and, until the third killing, they had almost no evidence. He fooled Jadzia into thinking I’d taken control and she could lower the forcefield, then tried to kill her. I don’t know if he’s playing us, by pretending to be her, and acting tearful and emotional to get us to lower our guard. If he could fool Jadzia… she’d known me a lot longer than we’ve known Ezri.”

Kira shook her head, letting out a slow breath. “How will we know?”

Sisko paused a moment. “When Dax tries to kill someone.” He stated, grimly. “Until then, we have no way of knowing unless we catch someone else with a TR-116 and an exographic targeting array.”

“Wasn’t that the rifle and array Chief O’Brien replicated?” Kira queried, looking confused. “It can’t be him. We know where he was at oh-three seventeen the night of the first murder.”

“Why would Dax use a different weapon?” Sisko asked.

“Time? Opportunity? To throw an investigation off the scent?” Then Kira sighed. “Do you think she’s the killer?” she asked, softly.

“I don’t think Ezri is. But if she’s been being influenced by Joran…” Sisko paused, shaking his head. “Maybe if Ilario offended Joran in some way… after a night of drinking… would his judgement even be impaired? I don’t know, Colonel. I knew Curzon for years. I served with Jadzia for six years. And I still have no idea how any of this works. We need an expert.”

“You saw how Ezri reacted when we mentioned the Symbiosis commission.”

“Colonel, we just agreed that we have no idea which Dax we’re dealing with right now. I hope we’re dealing with the confused assistant counsellor, but we might have been speaking to the insane serial killer. He’d have entirely different reasons to want to avoid the Symbiosis commission investigating this than Ezri would ever have. This ‘Gard’ Dax mentioned… they might know.” He glanced at Kira. “Computer, search federation records for a Trill with the surname Gard working for the Trill Symbiosis Commission.”

“Hiziki Gard, born 2320, on Trill. Currently working for the Trill Symbiosis Commission as a Special Agent and located on Tesnia, on secondment as a cultural attaché.”

Kira rolled her eyes. “Cultural Attaché?”

“Yes, Colonel. I know exactly what that actually means.” Sisko deadpanned. “Computer, send the following message to Hiziki Gard: This is Captain Benjamin Sisko, Commanding Officer of Deep Space Nine. We have a situation involving one of our officers on our hands where we think your expertise would be invaluable. Sisko out.”

“Will he respond?” Kira asked.

“If he’s what I think he is, he will.” Sisko replied. “Given how secretive the Trill still are about their symbionts, they’ve got to have a team who deal with hosts gone bad. This can’t be the first time a host has been accused of murder in these sorts of circumstances. Although it is strange that one of their agents, who is personally known to Dax, is just fifteen light-years away when everything goes wrong.” He rolled his eyes. “I wonder if they thought something like this might happen and wanted a trouble-shooter in place.”

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

On Tesnia, Gard blinked slightly when he found the communication in his inbox. Even though he had personal experience of the Dax symbiont’s last… troublesome… host, he hadn’t expected to be called upon. Even though this Sisko, whoever he was, hadn’t specified what had happened, he’d already seen the reports. Two federation officers, killed with a gun, both shot at close range.

Calling up the file, he read through it again:

_FILE: Dax, Ezri_

_Rank: Lieutenant junior grade, Federation Starfleet_

_Current assignment: Station Counsellor, Deep Space Nine_

_Full Name at Birth: Ezri Tigan_

_Year of birth: 2354_

_Place of birth: Trill, grew up in Sappora system_

_Parents: Yanas Tigan, mother, Verem Tigan, father._

_Education: Starfleet Academy, Medical Program, 2372-2374 (final year of training waived)_

_Marital status: Single_

_No Application to Initiate Program on file. Enrolled in Starfleet Academy medical program, with emphasis on psychology. Assigned to U.S.S. Destiny for field training, with title of assistant ship's counsellor. Joined to Dax symbiont during medical emergency, as only available Trill, despite lack of training. Took leave of absence on Trill to receive training. Accepted position as station counsellor on Deep Space Nine, with promotion to lieutenant junior grade._

It was accompanied by a picture of a small, smiling female Trill, with boyishly short black hair. Even Gard, used to assessing people entirely objectively, found her appearance slightly disarming.

Then he shook himself. That disarmingness would make it easier for her to approach victims. Her height would make her seem entirely unthreatening. Her memories from Emony and Joran, not to mention Curzon and Jadzia, would make her extremely dangerous with a knife or sword. With a ranged weapon… at close range, she’d be unlikely to miss and have the benefit of surprise.

Calling up another file, sent to him from his contact in Starfleet, he read a tersely concise incident report.

“Security personnel dispatched to quarters of Lt. JG Hector Ilario, after failure to report for shift or answer communications attempts. Door lock overridden, and entry gained. Lt. Ilario found deceased on floor. Cause of death: Gunshot from apparent close range, directly to heart. Last person to see deceased alive: Lt. JG Ezri Dax. Time of Death: Approximately 0317hrs Station time. No suspects. Murder Weapon not recovered.”

Dax’s involvement had been the only reason he was sent the file.

Calling up his terminal’s communications program, he sent an immediate response.

“Captain Sisko, this is Hiziki Gard. I am on my way. Please send a full briefing. I am cleared up to Level Ten. My ETA is approximately 33 hours.” It was useful having access to a government diplomatic courier vessel at times like this, which is why he had such a craft available. His work for the TSC was often time-sensitive, particularly if he was transporting a symbiont whose host had died suddenly.

He was off the pad within twenty minutes, having left behind a note indicating that he’d been called away on urgent consular business on Deep Space Nine.

The additional files Sisko sent through an hour later contained a significant amount of additional information. The station’s chief engineer, with the brilliance typical of such personnel, in his experience, had deduced the murder weapon’s function.

He’d replicated and demonstrated a version of it. There had been two additional murders with the same weapon as the first murder.

There was no evidence as to how the victims were chosen, or if they were selected at random. Each time a pattern seemed to emerge, it disappeared with the next killing.

The first two victims had been human, the third bolian. The first victim had been male, the next female, and the third male. The first victim had been single, the others married. Two victims had been childless, the third had multiple children.

The final, interrupted shooting had been of a male Vulcan, who’d been wounded.

Shaking his head, he settled on his bunk, leaving the shuttle’s computer to fly itself to Bajor, and closed his eyes, running over all of the data he had slowly.

On the face of it, the data pointed to a loss of control and the desire to regain it. But he’d know more when he arrived. Starfleet (or Bajoran) security were unlikely to have his level of experience. Not when it came to serial killers. On Trill… he was always involved. That was part of the job of Gard.

He just hoped that it wasn’t too late for either Dax or Ezri Tigan to be saved.


	3. Charged

Sisko had just settled down in his office in Ops, having stolen a few hours of sleep beforehand, when he was interrupted by a pounding on his office door.

He knew exactly who it’d be.

“Come in, Worf!” he called. The Klingon hadn’t gotten over Jadzia. He had no idea how to react to or behave around Ezri. He seemed to push her away sometimes, but other times, he seemed to be more protective of her than he’d been with Jadzia. His confrontation with Bashir in the infirmary, after Ezri arrived on the station, for instance, had been straight out of the possessive Klingon playbook.

Stepping through the door, the Klingon crossed to the desk, looking down at Sisko. Most humans would have interpreted his behaviour as glaring. Sisko knew it was merely a Klingon being direct about paying attention to you.

“Sir, I understand Lieutenant Dax is in the brig.” He growled. “Why?”

“Because Odo caught her in the act of shooting a Vulcan science officer, using a TR-116 with a transporter attachment.” Sisko said, without pre-amble.

“Sir, she’s been investigating the killings.” Worf stated, his voice going slightly lower. “She isn’t the killer.”

“Worf, have you seen her… arguing with herself?” Sisko asked.

“Arguing with herself?” Worf repeated. “Why would she do that?

“We’re concerned that another host’s personality may be controlling her actions or manipulating her. She threw a shoe at Doctor Bashir earlier and shouted at him to stop bothering her.”

Worf blinked. “Clearly, she is demonstrating that regardless of her behaviour, she does not wish to have a relationship with the doctor.”

“He was delivering some comforts to her.” Sisko stated. “He’d barely spoken two words before she threw her shoe directly at his head.”

Worf didn’t respond.

“Did Jadzia ever talk to you about Joran?” He asked. “Did he ever… affect her personality?”

“No, Captain.” Worf rumbled. “She never discussed that peta’Q with me.”

“Well, we’re no further forwards, then.” Sisko commented with a deep sigh. Then his combadge chimed. “Sisko, go ahead.” He said, after tapping it.

“Captain… I think you’re going to want to see this.” Odo said, his voice heavier than usual. “I’ve just been searching Lt. Dax’s quarters. I was looking behind the access panel for the environmental controls. Most people don’t know there’s a cavity to the right of them aboard Cardassian stations.”

“I’m on my way.” Sisko told Odo. “Lt. Worf… follow me. We may want as many witnesses as possible.”

Trotting through the near-deserted corridors, Sisko and Worf needed about five minutes to arrive outside of Ezri’s assigned quarters. Opening the door, they noticed that Odo was holding a tricorder, along with a large plastic bag.

The changeling gestured to an open access panel. “It’s in there, Captain.”

“What is, Odo?” Sisko asked, walking across, and pulling on a pair of gloves handed to him by a Bajoran security officer.

“See.” Odo grated.

Reaching into the compartment, Sisko encountered a large, angular object. There was just enough room to slide it out into the room. And then he realised what he was holding, and a sinking feeling grew deep within his chest.

He was holding a TR-116 rifle, with a micro-transporter attachment and an exographic targeting array looped around the stock. There were several small black hairs visible on the inside of the band of the headpiece. It’d been inside a wall, in Dax’s quarters. Unless someone had managed to transport it into a tiny void, it could only have been placed there by Dax.

“What the hell have you done, Old Man?” Sisko whispered, holding the weapon that had almost certainly been used to commit three murders. “And why on earth did you do it at all?”

Then he straightened, forcing himself to do what was now required of him.

“Constable, log this item as evidence and secure it.” He instructed.

Shaking his head, he crossed back to the door, passing Worf. The Klingon looked like someone had taken a baseball bat to his head, several times. “Lt. Worf, you’re off-duty until further notice.” Sisko ordered, firmly.

Clearly upset, Worf saluted, turned, and stomped off. Hopefully, he was heading for the holosuite at Quark’s. Even though he’d probably get a complaint about him trashing Vic’s, Sisko knew that it was better than him doing something inappropriate.

God only knew that Sisko was tempted to join him. To put off what he needed to do next.

Slapping his combadge, he growled out an instruction into it. “Colonel Kira, meet me in the brig.” He instructed, receiving an acknowledgement a moment later.

Stomping through the corridors, he was surprised when several Klingons melted out of his way. The elevator was empty, which gave him a moment to compose himself.

Then he was on the promenade, marching with a straight back towards the brig, and his duty. Kira was waiting for him, with a stony explanation on her face. Although she wasn’t that familiar with federation law, she knew that it was about to cease to apply to one Lieutenant (Junior Grade) Ezri Dax.

For a moment, the only cell in the DS9 brig with an active forcefield appeared to be empty, containing only a mound of bedding.

Then a head popped out of the bedding. Ezri’s eyes were red, and her face streaked with tears. There was an expression on her face that hit him in the pit of the stomach. Hope.

Then he started to speak, knowing exactly what it would do to the little Trill. “Lieutenant Junior Grade Ezri Tigan Dax, under my authority as commanding officer of Station Deep Space Nine, I hereby charge you with the following offences: That at or about station time oh-three-seventeen hours, stardate 52462.2, you did murder Lieutenant Junior Grade Hector Ilario. That at or about station time twenty-five-thirty-four hours, stardate 52472.3, you did murder Lieutenant Commander Greta Vanderweg, and that at or about station time twenty-nineteen, stardate 52540.4, you did murder Petty Officer Zim Brott. You are also charged with the attempted murder of Lieutenant Chu'lak, at or about twenty-three hundred hours, stardate 52552.3, assaulting a senior officer, two counts of murdering a senior officer, the murder of an officer of the same rank, the unlawful replication of a lethal weapon and unauthorised accessing of Starfleet databases. Due to the legal situation on this station, you will be tried under Bajoran law for these offences.” He hesitated, before turning to Kira and nodding.

The Bajoran took a deep breath, before pulling out a PADD and reading from it. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you . Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?”

Ezri shook her head, whether refusing to speak or denying what she’d been accused of, Sisko could not tell.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Ezri was actually stunned by the list of charges. Surely Ben… Captain Sisko … couldn’t actually blame her. Surely, he couldn’t actually think that she killed Hector, never mind either of the other victims. She couldn’t control an involuntary shake of her head.

She also knew what was going to come next.

“As of this moment, I am placing you on indefinite suspension from duty, effective immediately. Due to the severity of your crimes, you would normally be confined to quarters. However, as your quarters are a potential crime scene, and there are concerns for your mental wellbeing, I have no option but to order your confinement here. This is the only secure space that is available at present which presents no potential obstacle to the running of the station.” Sisko stopped talking for a moment. “Dax… Lieutenant… I hope that this is a tremendous misunderstanding.” He continued, in an entirely different tone of voice. “But we just found another TR-116 in your quarters, behind the panel for the environmental controls.”

“What?” She almost shouted. “I… never replicated a TR-116. Check the replicator logs!”

“Would you care to explain how it got in there, Lieutenant?”

“I can’t, Sir.” Ezri responded. “I didn’t put it there.”

“Do you also have no knowledge of an exographic targeting display with black hairs on it, Lieutenant?”

“They’re from the Vulcan, Chu’lak!” Ezri said, forcefully. “He had a TR-116 and was wearing an exographic targeting array when I shot him!”

“Your defence, Lieutenant, appears to be that, a man who was shot in the shoulder, made it to your quarters, hid a rifle and targeting array behind a panel, and returned to his own quarters, where he lay in a pool of blood, before a medical team reached him. Is that an accurate summation?”

“Yes, sir.”

Sisko shook his head. “Dax, you know that’s impossible. Chu’lak spent all night in the infirmary. He was only released a few hours ago. You nearly killed him.”

“He had a TR-116 too!” Ezri repeated, insistently.

“Lieutenant Dax, I’m suspending this interview until you have been assessed by the Chief Medical Officer.” Sisko said, firmly, before activating his combadge. “Doctor Bashir, report to the brig and bring some tea with you.”

“On my way, Sir.” Bashir responded. His voice sounded… dejected, for some reason.

It took him perhaps a minute and a half to arrive. Ezri spent most of that time staring at the floor, with tears rolling down her cheeks. The one interlude was when she gave Sisko such a look of pleading vulnerability that he almost opened her cell himself.

Then, finally, the doctor arrived, and she could see Sisko was all too happy to let him take over from himself and Kira. The two stepped into the security office, before the door slid shut and she was along with Bashir.

She was even more surprised by what he did when the door was closed, and they were alone. Pulling out a flask from his pocket, Julian opened the forcefield.

“I thought you might like something to drink.” He said, offering the small flask to Ezri, along with a plastic mug, retaining another for himself. There was a delicious smell of tarnellian honey and Fanalian tea from the flask as he opened the top.

“You aren’t worried I’ll try and kill you with the mug?” she asked, teasingly, then flushed when she realised that she was being flippant. “Or throw another shoe at you?”

“Of course I am. That’s why I’m giving you the chance.” Bashir said, pouring a measure of the tea into her mug. “Better to get the attempted murder with a lightweight plastic mug out of the way first. That way, we can actually talk about what’s going on with you.”

Ezri took a sip of the tea, then several more, allowing the familiar ritual to soothe her. It wasn’t long before she felt a lot more relaxed, somehow.

“He’s not really here for you.” Joran hissed. The previous host hadn’t commented for a while, and Ezri had managed to put him to the back of her mind. “He just wants to show that inane captain of yours that he’s good at being a doctor.”

“Shut up!” Ezri shouted.

Bashir looked slightly shocked at the outburst.

“Let me put it this way, Julian.” She said. “I’m not going mad. I’ve got… a sort of passenger, I guess. Not like Dax.”

“Like Joran?” Julian asked. “What is it actually like having him… interacting with you?”

“It’s like being followed around by an annoying co-worker with no sense of personal space. Who isn’t concerned about anything other than trying to goad me into violence. I threw my shoe at him earlier. It’s not good manners, even on Trill. Audrid once got into trouble for having a row with Lela over dinner with her husband. And Curzon once got thrown out of a restaurant for arguing with Audrid about the role of a field docent.” She looked away, her shoulders slumping as she paused mid-flow, and just sighed. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“A little.” Julian replied. “It’s useful, though.”

“Like having a doctor at a gymnastics event?” Ezri asked, clearly off on a non-sequitur. “Particularly when one of the competitors has decided to challenge a judge’s decision with a massive sword.”

“What?” Julian asked. “Why did that happen?”

“I don’t understand why Emony didn’t kill that Tessman thug. She had access to his sword, after all. He tried to kill her, and nearly killed her friend.” Joran commented, snidely.

“Emony was judging a gymnastics competition on Earth, back when humans didn’t really get outside their solar system that regularly.” Ezri explained, ignoring Joran. “One of the competitors was a Tessman. He was a very good gymnast, but there was no passion to his performance. His people and the Trill did not have good relations at that time. It’s a long story why. He didn’t appreciate being beaten by another Trill in the first round and got angry enough to wreck his landing in the second round. That meant he didn’t qualify. Do you know where to get any escargot?”

“What?”

“Talking about this memory is making me want something called escargot.” Ezri said, barely pausing for breath. “His room-mate was a human. He was cute. Emony approached him, and he was smart enough to know she wanted him to ask her out. And he wasn’t much of a bigot.”

“Are you talking about Leonard McCoy?” Julian asked.

“Yes. He took Emony to a really nice restaurant. She really enjoyed the food, and the real wine. Not synthehol. Stuff that was made with a stone press, real fruit and love.” Ezri blushed slightly. “They took a bit of a detour on the way back to his apartment.”

“Oh. That kind of detour.” Julian said, understanding the context clue perfectly. “How did it go?”

“Emony had no complaints at all. They talked about the tessman issue with her. I told him about the fact that they started a row when they fell into the symbiont caves on Trill while hiking. After that, they decided we were ‘vermin lovers’.” Ezri practically spat the last phrase. “And then she told him she was joined. He didn’t… react badly, for an earth-raised human, when he found out she’d been a man before she was a woman.”

“That was Tobin, wasn’t it?” Julian asked. “Didn’t he win the Star Cross?”

Ezri actually giggled. “None of the other hosts have ever understood why they decorated him for blowing up most of a cruiser.”

“He blew up a cruiser?” Julian asked. “Why? And how?”

“This was back before Romulans had warp drives. He was aboard a ship carrying a prototype transporter, one of the first of the modern ones. The Romulans managed to knock it out of warp and boarded it, to steal the warp drive. Tobin and a Vulcan friend of his managed to transport a lab table into the coolant tank and block the feed to the warp core. They then got the crew out, blew the ship in half with powerpacks, and got clear.”

“Like a saucer separation?” Julian asked.

“His Vulcan friend was the one who came up with that idea, afterwards.” Ezri said.

“Why are you telling him these things?” Joran demanded. “He doesn’t need to know them. He’s let you out of the cell. His guard is down. His hands are full. Throw your tea in his face and run.”

Ezri sighed and shook her head. “No.” she stated. “Not going to happen.”

Bashir looked slightly confused.

“Joran was suggesting that I take advantage of you.”

“I see.” Bashir re-joined. “You know, there are more than a few circumstances where I might be very willing to go along with that idea…”

For a moment, Ezri actually froze. This wasn’t the sort of half-hopeful pass Ilario had made while drunk. Unless she was reading far too much into it. Or not. _Damn it, Jadzia, why couldn’t you have just slept with him?_ Ezri thought and ended up having to stifle a giggle. Part of her mind threw up the sort of image that was about as unhelpful as it could be. For an instant, she imagined leaning forwards… She shook her head, banishing the thought as far as she could.

“He suggested throwing my tea in your face and running.” Ezri admitted, once she’d gotten her composure back.

“You’d have gotten into the security office.” Julian said, with a sly grin. “Then you’d have needed to get past Colonel Kira. With a phaser.”

Even though she was already embarrassed, Ezri couldn’t help looking away for a second, feeling as if her face was on fire. “You thought I’d try?” she asked.

“Before I opened the cell, I didn’t know who I was talking to.” Bashir pointed out. “I still don’t.”

Pulling her most demonic face, Ezri had to hold back the giggles when she tried to do an impression of Joran’s voice. “It’s so easy to impersonate uncomplicated people. This girl has no training. Her mind was easy to take over.” Then she lunged forwards, her face twisting into a grin as she sprang towards the human, not taking her eyes away from his for a second.

There was a sudden red blur from the direction of the security office and the sound of the door hissing open. The blur resolved into the figure of Colonel Kira Nerys, with a phaser in firing position, just before an orange beam slammed into her chest. Bashir, suddenly recognising Ezri’s actual intentions, gasped out a protest just as she pulled the trigger.

She squawked in shock as she lost control of her body, perhaps halfway to Bashir. The human moved with a speed and coordination she barely recognised from several of Jadzia’s memories. Before gravity caught up with her, he’d caught her and lowered her to the deck, sliding her into the recovery position without missing a beat.

Julian!” she exclaimed, once she could think coherently again, a few seconds later. “I was just…”

The human leant forward, before undoing the front of her jumpsuit, and spraying something around the entrance to her pouch. Within a few seconds, she suddenly felt a lot less relaxed .

“Bashir to Sisko. Remind me which incarnation of Dax had the most questionable sense of humour when drunk?”

“ _Probably Curzon. Why?_ ” Sisko asked, after a moment.

“Because Ezri just tried to jump me.” Bashir said, straightforwardly. “At least I think it was Ezri. I’m not sure that the THIP was a good idea.”

Ezri grimaced as she tried to process that information. “You drugged me.” She whispered, feeling tears well up in the corner of her eyes. “I wanted to kiss you…”

“Only so I could try to help you.” Bashir replied, softly. “We wanted to know who we were really dealing with.”

“ _Put Dax back in the cell for now._ ” Sisko instructed.

Refusing to look at Bashir or do anything to help him and Kira, Ezri allowed herself to be picked up and placed on the cell’s bunk, face down. Before he let go, Bashir fielded her left arm, which was hanging by her side and folded both arms so that they lay across her back. Then he stepped back, letting go at the last possible moment, and activating the forcefield.

Even Emony couldn’t have gotten to her feet and out of the cell in the handful of seconds available. Ezri just curled up into her duvet, hating herself for letting her guard down that much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always appreciated.


	4. Conversing

A few hours later, Bashir, Kira, O’Brien and Odo were sitting around a table in Quark’s.

“Do you know, I was almost convinced that it was Joran impersonating Ezri, just for a few seconds.” Bashir said, relating his session with the young Trill. The fifth seat at the table seemed uncomfortably empty. “I didn’t want to take the chance though. She was still holding a lightweight mug.”

“Does anyone think she did it?” O’Brien asked. “She hasn’t got a violent bone in her body.”

Odo looked around at the ring of faces. “I think that all the evidence we’ve found points almost perfectly to her. And the last time I underestimated a suspect, I let a murderer walk free.”

“Now, now, Odo, just because you got played once…” Kira interjected, teasingly, placing her hand on top of the changeling’s. “We all knew you had a weakness for pretty faces a long time ago.”

“Humph.” Odo replied. “I just didn’t want to turn someone over to the Cardassian authorities if I wasn’t certain of their guilt. You had an alibi, after all. Even if it would have resulted in your execution anyway.”

“What does your gut say, Odo?” O’Brien asked. “Surely you don’t believe that she’s capable of something like that.”

“I tend to reserve judgements where I’ve had to intervene to stop someone stabbing another Starfleet officer with a steak knife.” Odo commented. “Even if they do seem meek.”

“I agree, Chief.” Kira interjected. “I was part of the resistance. I know what a hardened killer looks like. How they act. I know what a soldier looks like and how they act. I know what a civilian nervously carrying a phaser is like. Jadzia was a soldier. Ezri would probably manage to defend herself, but that’s it.”

“What about if Joran is in control?” O’Brien asked. “How would we even know?”

“As the captain said. When she tries to kill someone else.” Kira stated. “Until then… treat her as if she’s our Dax. But don’t give her a phaser. Or a knife.”

There was a general murmuring of agreement.

“Chief, is there any way to tell when a weapon was replicated?” Bashir asked. “Or to tell who’s fired it?”

“I don’t know if a TR-116 would have an isotopic tag, but I can take a look.” O’Brien replied.

“There is a way to tell who has fired a gun.” Odo commented. “It’s why I had them take swabs of Dax’s hands and took her uniform. Guns produce a residue when fired that gets on clothes and skin.”

“Would this mean anything in Dax’s case, though?” Bashir asked. “We know she’s fired a weapon already.”

“But has she fired one in her quarters?” Odo asked. “Or while wearing a different uniform? That would tell us a lot.”

“And if she hasn’t?”

Then our pool of suspects is much wider.” Odo growled. “Everyone on the station could have done it.” “What about the Vulcan that Ezri shot?” O’Brien said. “Could she be telling the truth?”

“It’s possible.” Odo admitted. “But if he did have a weapon, how did he get rid of it without the medical team noticing?”

“I don’t know.” O’Brien commented. “We’ll have to find a way to prove it.”

“And why would he try to shoot her?” Odo said. “She doesn’t fit the pattern of being alone in her quarters at night.”

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Chu’lak seemed rather surprised when he answered the door of his quarters to find the station’s chief of security standing outside.

“May I come in?” Odo asked. “I need to ask you a few questions.”

The Vulcan hesitated slightly. “Certainly. Please, take a seat.”

Odo flowed into a chair, taking the opportunity to sample what was on the fabric. Nothing jumped out at him, unsurprisingly, given that he was in the quarters of a Vulcan.

“Do you have any idea why you were a target?” Odo asked without preamble.

“No.” the Vulcan replied. “I have no idea why she shot me?”

Odo couldn’t tell if he was lying. _Damned emotional control._ He thought to himself. “She?” He asked. “How did you know we’d caught someone at all?”

“It was a guess.” The Vulcan replied. “When I was travelling to my quarters, shortly before I was shot, there was a Trill in the lift with me. The station counsellor. She was acting strangely. Talking to herself. She looked at me and said something like ‘You’re him.’”

“How did you respond?” Odo said, looking at the Vulcan curiously.

“I went to my quarters and found her file in station records. I was crossing to the door to go to the security office when… you know the rest.”

“Why did you want to go to security in person, rather than call on your com-badge?” Odo challenged.

“Because it was logical that I’d be more likely to be believed in person. And it would make me harder to find if I wasn’t in my quarters. I must have spent too long reading her file.”

Odo harrumphed. Although the Vulcan’s answers were entirely plausible, it felt to him like there was something going on that didn’t stack up, somehow.

“Do you know what a TR-116 phaser is?” Odo asked, deliberately mis-identifying the type of weapon.

“No.” the Vulcan replied, showing no urge to correct Odo. “Is it what was used to shoot me?”

“Yes.” Odo replied. “Thank you for your time.”

Then he stalked out of the room, waiting until he was in an empty turbolift to call in. “Odo to Kira. The Vulcan is either clean, or too emotionally controlled for me to catch him in a lie.”

“ _Did you turn your recorder on?_ ” Kira asked. “ _Julian’s managed to book a fitting tonight._ ”

“I don’t like working with someone who bombed his own shop.” Odo groused. “But he’s the best spy on the station. He might spot something I’ve missed.”

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

When Bashir walked into Garak's shop a couple of hours later, the tailor was just finishing a sale.

“I think this will go perfectly with your eyes.” He said, to a Bajoran woman, handing her a bundle of fabric. “And of course, you can be sure that I will be very willing to give evidence at your divorce hearing.”

She nodded to him, before leaving the shop with a spring in her step.

“What was that about, Garak?” Bashir asked.

“A small matter.” The Cardassian replied. “People often ask me such trivial questions, you know. Now, you’re here for the new costume, aren’t you?”

He ushered Bashir into a fitting room, busying around him for a few minutes with a measure.

“I see I need to make a few more adjustments.” He commented. “Really, Doctor. I’m sure those ice cream sundaes are most definitely not good for you.”

“If you ever bothered to try one, Garak, you might understand.” Bashir replied. “And I think you’ll like the scenario waiting for us this time. The British Ambassador to Turkey has been kidnapped by ARGUS, and I’ve been sent to get him back.”

“I see.” Garak commented. “And our back-up?”

“There’s a squad of Marine Commandos waiting to be told where to go. Our job is to find the ambassador and protect him while they fight their way in.”

“Most excellent.” Bashir observed. “Now, I believe that there was another matter you wanted to consult me on as well?”

A few minutes later, Bashir and Garak were sitting in front of the viewscreen in the tailor’s shop, watching the footage from Odo’s hidden camera.

“He’s lying about what he did after finding her file in the station records.” Garak said. “And he knows that a TR-116 isn’t a phaser.”

“Do you think he’s the killer?” Bashir asked.

“A Vulcan, killing three people at random?” Garak asked, slightly incredulously. “You know how uptight and controlled they are, Doctor. It’s incredibly unlikely, to say the least.”

“So why do you think he was lying?” Bashir asked.

“I have no idea.” Garak admitted. “It isn’t logical for him to. Unless he has something to hide, but Vulcans are not serial killers. Not usually.” 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

When Bashir returned, the group reconvened in Vic’s. Within moments, the singer crossed to their table, noticing that they were in Starfleet uniforms, not their more usual garments from his time period.

“Where’s Ezri?” he asked. “Normally she comes in with you. With the war on, that’s gonna make a guy worry about his friends.”

“She’s not coming.” O’Brien replied. “She’s in trouble.”

“What kinda trouble would happen to such a darling little girl?” Vic asked. “Anything to do with this serial killer I’ve heard about?”

“She’s been arrested.” Odo filled in. “For all three murders.” 

“What?” Vic asked. “Why?”

“Because I found her holding an identical weapon, somewhere she shouldn’t have been at that time of night, and she used it to shoot someone just as I entered the room.” Odo stated. “At the time, I had very few doubts about her innocence.”

“And now you do, huh?”

“New evidence has since made me question my initial judgement.” Odo said. “But…”

“That’s your gut talkin’, right?”

“Indeed. All the evidence we’ve found, all the witnesses we’ve spoken to… they all point straight to her.”

“So why ain’tcha convinced?”

“Because I’ve known Dax for six years.” Odo replied. “Even though Ezri isn’t Jadzia, they’re not that different. And… she doesn’t feel like the type of personality that would do this.”

“Normally, I’d spin you a yarn about Sin City, but I don’t have a story like this.” Vic replied, before crossing to the stage and taking his place in front of the microphone. “This is a real classic everyone.” He said, gesturing to his band. “From Sonny Curtis and the Crickets, I bring you…” He gestured dramatically to his band, who started up with a guitar riff. “I fought the law.”

He paused, letting the music get into its stride, before starting to sing. “Breakin' rocks in the hot sun, I fought the law and the law won, I fought the law and the law won…”

Looking over at Bashir, O’Brien noticed that the doctor appeared to be blinking back tears.

“Julian?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

“If they don’t take the symbiont away… that’s what’ll happen to Ezri.” He said. “Removing Dax would kill her, so under the principles of Federation law… the only option is a life sentence. For both of them. Even if Bajoran law doesn’t follow all of them, not executing people is usually the first step when a species is working towards joining the Federation. Particularly if that person is or was a Starfleet officer.”

O’Brien placed a hand on the shoulder of his closest friend. “They won’t. We’ll prove she’s innocent, don’t you worry.” He reassured Bashir.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

After nearly a day stewing in a cell, Ezri was surprised to realise that she was hungry when Sisko arrived, carrying two bowls of what looked like stew on a tray.

“I thought you’d be hungry, Old Man.” He said, stepping to one side of the cell’s entrance. He deactivated the forcefield, before handing Ezri the tray, keeping a bowl for himself. While she was still adjusting to holding it, he re-activated the forcefield.

“Ben…” Ezri said. “You don’t need to do that. Joran isn’t in control.”

Sisko looked uncomfortable. “I can’t take the chance, Dax. You know that. Particularly after you tried to jump Bashir earlier. What were you thinking?”

Ezri couldn’t contain the venomous glare she aimed at her oldest friend. “That you drugged me.” She shouted at Sisko. “I wasn’t in control of my actions… even less than usual now…”

The situation was only made worse when Joran decided to chime in. “I thought that throwing herself at anything with a pulse was Jadzia’s hobby.” He commented, sarcastically.

Sisko grimaced. “I’m sorry, Old Man. We were trying to help you by finding out what was really going on. I should never have asked Julian to betray your trust like that.”

“No.” Ezri said, poking at the stew with a plastic spork that’d been on the tray. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Are you going to eat that, Old Man?”

“Not until you convince me it isn’t drugged. I trusted you, Ben. I trusted Julian.”

“I had to order him to do it, you know.” Sisko said. “I’m sorry.”

He opened the forcefield again and held his hand out for the tray.

“You know you want to throw it in his face.” Joran chimed in. “He’s betrayed you. He admits he doesn’t trust you.”

“No.” Ezri responded, wondering why she wanted to defend her friend, before taking a cautious spoonful of the stew. It didn’t taste like it’d come out of a replicator, to her not-great surprise. Sisko’s enjoyment of cooking was something Curzon and Jadzia had both greatly appreciated, and which she was starting to do as well. Although she remembered a time Jadzia had been hit on the fingers with a ladle. “That stung.” She said, out loud.

“What did?” Sisko asked.

“When you hit Jadzia with a ladle for trying to pour the leftover soup into her bowl without asking. And knowing that you didn’t trust me enough not to drug me.”

“Dax, if you were being controlled by Joran, unless he’s a lot more patient than he was in my mind, we’d have known. He’d probably have used Tobin and Jadzia’s memories to help dismantle the forcefield generator. I know Julian didn’t recover the spoon from your cup of tea when he locked you back up. And I know that, regardless of build quality, keeping an engineer in a cell who has access to any form of tool is almost impossible.”

Ezri didn’t really know what to say. “So you don’t think I’m being controlled?” she asked. “Now that you’ve drugged me?”

“I don’t.” Sisko replied. “However, right now, you’re still the prime suspect. And I know that you say it was the Vulcan science officer you shot, but Odo has interviewed him. He admitted that he doesn’t trust him in the slightest, but he couldn’t catch him in a lie.”

“He’s lying.” Ezri insisted, slightly sulkily. “And don’t think I’m forgetting this, Benjamin. Even if I understand why you did it. Even if I know Curzon used to think it funny to do that to you on occasion. You know how it feels to realise…”

“That I’d been drugged.” Sisko completed. “I also know that I often learnt things when he did that to me. You really let yourself relax around Julian, even if that was the drug. As for Chu’lak, we can’t prove he is lying yet, Dax.” Sisko said. “And, either way, keeping you in here makes sure there won’t be any more killings. Even if it isn’t comfortable.”

“I know.” Ezri admitted, not looking at Sisko. “Maybe I’ll take Jake to Vic’s and turn off the holosuite’s anti-drunkenness system.” Her tone of voice was more playful, although it was a form of playful that Sisko remembered from Curzon all too well.

“Don’t you dare.” Sisko said, although he allowed himself a smile. “He’s not nearly old enough for that yet. You know, there was another lieutenant who turned up in my office not too long ago, with a Bajoran in tow…”

They finished their meal with a more companionable conversation, before Sisko retrieved all the crockery. he left behind a large, clear, lightweight and shatterproof jug of water, alongside a glass made of the same material.

He also left a PADD, clearly from the same catalogue as her communicator or the viewscreen she’d been given but ignored. Booting it up, she discovered that it carried her entire collection of novels.

Then she curled up on the uncomfortable bunk and opened a book that she knew would annoy Joran. He was being quieter than before, which told her that he was planning something. Or that he was as bored as she was sitting in a cell, staring at the wall or out of a forcefield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is very welcome.  
> Minor missing scene error corrected.


	5. Absence of Evidence

Gard had spent most of the thirty-three-hour flight from Tesnia to Deep Space Nine reviewing his memories of Joran Dax. He also read the various TSC notes that he’d been sent, and even watched several counselling sessions from her time at the TSC. They showed an untrained host holding up remarkably well, for someone who’d suddenly had eight lifetimes of memories dropped into her mind. Especially for someone whose personal log had contained references to ‘Brain Vampires’.

All if it left him fairly certain that he needed significantly more data. The girl in the recordings was unsure of herself. She often jumped to former host memories and had almost no control over the process. If that was still the case, he wondered what encountering some of the more intense memories from Joran might have done to her mind.

Then he put that sort of thinking out of his head, going through the docking procedures with a sense of routine. His courier was assigned to a shuttle pad which put him right next to the station’s core levels.

When he stepped out, he was greeted by a single human. Dark skinned, and with a shaved head, he got the immediate impression this one didn’t take bullshit from anyone. A quick glance revealed that he was wearing the insignia of a Starfleet captain.

“Captain Sisko.” He said. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“Special Operative Gard.” Sisko responded in a voice that almost put Gard in mind of a Klingon. “Likewise. What do you want to see first?”

“I’d like to talk to Dax, if that’s possible.”

“Certainly.” Sisko said. “She woke up an hour ago.”

Gard didn’t comment. He assumed that Starfleet officers developed a fairly regimented sleep pattern, depending on their shift cycle. If Dax would normally have started her shift by now, she’d be awake.

“I don’t want to seem forward, Captain, but there is an option to… resolve the situation, if we do turn out to be dealing with Joran. One that would leave Ezri Tigan alive.”

“I know.” Sisko growled. “I was on Trill with Dax when her sister became ill.”

“Ah. If it becomes necessary, do I have your permission as her commanding officer to do what I can for her?”

“I’ll make that decision alongside Colonel Kira if it comes to it.” Sisko said, levelly. “She’s under the jurisdiction of Bajoran law right now, and Kira is the highest-ranking Bajoran I have access to.”

When he arrived in the station brig, what he immediately noticed was that someone seemed to have made Dax at home. She was staring at a viewer, which appeared to be showing some form of sappy romance film. None of the logs from her time in the TSC care facility had involved anything similar. And with his experience of Joran, he knew exactly how annoying the rogue host would have found soppy rom-coms. That told him a couple of things: she might be dealing with an attraction to someone, and, if she had Joran loose in her head, she was trying to annoy him and get him to stop paying attention. That spoke well to him about the chances that she was in control.

He also remembered the footage from the camera above the bar in Quark’s. Ezri reacting to shouts, simply by kicking a chair into someone’s path. She’d then attempted to subdue a human who’d fallen over the chair, before being punched, nearly knocking her off his torso. Almost unerringly, her hand had flown to a knife with barely a moment of hesitation, raising it above her head, and pausing just long enough for a Bajoran security officer to wrestle it out of her hand.

She’d looked entirely in control until that moment.

“Dax.” Sisko said, loudly, from beside him. “You’ve got a visitor.”

The girl looked around, her face initially curious as to who it might be. Her expression changed, and barriers went up the instant she saw him. She clearly recognised him, even though she’d never seen him before.

“Hello, Gard.” She said. “How did you get here from Trill so quickly?” Her voice was not hostile, but it carried little warmth, as if she was speaking to a salesman or a police investigator. The fact that she’d recognised him… either Ezri had excellent recollections of the times he’d briefed Audrid, or Joran was in control. Particularly since he didn’t look anything like the Gard that Audrid had known.

“I was on Tesnia, actually.” He revealed, as Sisko left the room to give them something resembling privacy.

There was a moment’s pause, as if she was recalling a star map. “Why… you thought… they thought…” she wasn’t angry or gabbling, just clearly processing multiple conflicting inputs. Then she glared into a corner. “NO!” She shouted, suddenly.

Gard recognised that behaviour in an instant. She’d performed the rite of emergence recently. And whoever it was did not like him at all. Which meant that Joran was tied up in all this, regardless of what he told Sisko or the Federation.

“Why did you perform the rite of emergence?” he asked, without preamble.

“Because I was trying to catch the real killer.” Ezri replied. “Captain Sisko asked me how much I remembered about Forensic Psychology. I hoped that if I consulted Joran… that I could catch the killer. Which I did. I shot him.”

“You maintain that the Vulcan, Chu’lak, is the person that the investigators are looking for?” Gard asked.

“Yes.” Ezri said.

“Despite the fact that the only evidence pointing to him is your testimony, and that all of the physical evidence points directly at you? Including the discovery of the murder weapon in your bedroom, which had been under continual guard since your arrest?”

“Yes.” Ezri repeated.

“And you maintain that Joran, the former host, is not in any way in control?”

“He… he was influencing me. But he wasn’t in control of my actions.”

“I see.” Gard commented. “So, what happened with…” he paused, checking the name. “Ensign Bertram.”

“I saw him being chased.” Ezri said. “I tried to stop him getting away, but he hit me. After that… I wasn’t fully in control.”

“hmm. So, Joran was influencing your actions and making you more aggressive?”

“Yes.” Ezri admitted, not even trying to hide the shame on her face. “But he wasn’t before I performed the rite of emergence.”

It all was perfectly plausible. It was all straightforward. And that was the problem with taking anything Dax said at face value.

Because he knew that he was dealing with, potentially, one of the most dangerous killers Trill had ever produced. Past-host influence was normally minor. But if Joran had been already close to the surface… he shook his head again. His instincts told him that the person he was speaking to wasn’t acting like Joran. But he remembered the report on Jadzia’s Zhian’tara. Where, even though Jadzia had intimately known Sisko for two lifetimes, and known about how dangerous Joran was, he’d still tricked her and nearly killed her.

And that meant that if Joran had displaced Ezri’s mind in the link, he’d have access to all of her memories. He’d be able to perfectly imitate her. The only way to tell… would be a Zhian’tara. Which, other than not having access to a guardian, would require eight hosts.

That would be his back-up plan, he decided. If the evidence didn’t lead to anything better.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Dax.” He said. “Hopefully, we can resolve this soon.

Then he padded out of the room, to the security office where Sisko was waiting for him.

“Well?” the human almost demanded. “Is that our Dax in there?”

“I don’t know.” Gard admitted. “I think it probably is.”

“But if it’s in fact Joran, impersonating her…”

“Exactly. He’d have access to all her memories. He could pull it off perfectly. Between killings, you might never know that she was anything other than a meek, confused assistant counsellor. I need more evidence, Captain. And there’s one other thing; if the killer is still out there, keeping Dax in a cell protects everyone. As long as the real killer thinks she’s under suspicion...”

“They won’t strike again. I’d come to the same conclusion.” Sisko commented. “We can show you the crime scenes and all of the other evidence we’ve collected. I’ve got two of my officers running forensics on the evidence at the moment.”

“If I could have something to eat first, that’d be most helpful.” Gard said, wanting a few minutes to reflect on the conversation, before taking aboard any additional new information.

“Certainly.” Sisko said, leading the way to the replimat.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

“That’s the third uniform without anything suspicious.” O’Brien reported to Bashir, as they went through the assorted ‘evidence’ from Ezri’s quarters and the meeting room. “There’s plenty of skin oils and cells, along with some hairs, but there’s none of this stuff Odo told us to look for.”

“We need to keep looking, Chief.” Bashir said.

“What if there isn’t actually anything for us to find?”

“Then we’ll know that, Chief.”

“Aye aye.” O’Brien said, scanning the next item of clothing, a simple tunic that he’d never even seen Ezri wearing when they were off-shift. It was clean. There were traces of skin cells and oils, but that was it.

The next item he was handed by Bashir from the pile was a hairbrush. His tricorder plipped away, logging the data, before showing an output that made O’Brien start.

“Sir…” He said. “I think I’ve found something.”

Bashir hurried over, looking down at the hairbrush, perplexed.

“On Ezri’s hairbrush?” He asked, surprised, as he put down her pillow cover.

“Or rather, a lack of something.” O’Brien clarified, showing Bashir the screen. “There’s plenty of hair on this, but there’s no… anything else.”

“What?” Bashir responded. “There’s no traces of her ever having touched her hairbrush?”

“Aye.”

“That’s preposterous. Even with her hair trimmed short, she must have used it regularly to get that much hair on it at all.” Bashir paused.

“What about the rifle that was found in her quarters?” O’Brien asked. “Where did that get put?”

Bashir handed him the evidence bag. Twenty seconds of tricorder scan revealed the answer.

“It’s been fired three times, but there’s no residue anywhere. And the only biological matter on it is hair.” He announced.”

“How can you tell how many times it’s been fired?” Bashir queried.

“Well, each time it fires, the barrel gets heated up. And that changes the crystallisation structure of the barrel. Not much, but if you’re looking for it, and you’ve had some time to experiment, it’s as clear as day.”

“I see. And how many times has the one Ezri was caught holding been fired?”

“Nine.” O’Brien said, almost immediately. “I fired it eight times in testing and when I demonstrated it to Odo and Ezri. Ezri obviously fired it once.”

Making sure not to take it out of the evidence bag, Bashir quickly located the rifle and passed it to his friend. A few moments with the tricorder later, and they had their answer. “This is covered in the sort of stuff Odo wanted us to look for. I can also detect Trill skin oils and skin cells around the grip, along with my own. And the read-out on the number of shots this has fired is bang on.”

“What’s your conclusion, Chief?”

“Either Ezri is incredibly aware of forensic techniques that haven’t been used regularly since the formation of the federation, or someone else is.”

“And why would she scrub her hairbrush?” Bashir pondered. “Unless someone else has handled it and they don’t want us to find out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is welcomed and encouraged.


	6. Evidence

After his meal, Gard wasted no time in visiting the crime scenes.

“In order.” He asked, as Sisko led him towards the habitat ring. “I want to see everything.”

The first set of quarters had little of interest. There was a picture of three happy, relaxed men on the storage unit immediately inside the door. He picked it up, examining it carefully.

“The victim, and two of his classmates.” Sisko said. “One of them was killed in action not too long ago. The other is hundreds of light years away.”

“And Dax came in here? Why?”

“She helped him get back to his quarters. I understand that he suggested she stay the night.” Sisko said, levelly. “She was, apparently, very tempted. The Curzon in her, she said. But she left.”

“How did she react?” Gard asked.

“Badly. It took her a while to process what had happened. Although I don’t imagine the hangover helped.”

“She’d been drinking alcohol?”

“Yes. She, Kira and Ilario shared a bottle or two of Saurian brandy in Quark’s. From what Dax said, he turned on the charm when they were alone.”

“I see.” Gard observed. “And you’re sure nothing happened that she isn’t telling us?”

“I am. We checked the logs. Prior to security arriving, his door last opened at oh-three-zero-seven hours, station time. Dax was in here with him a minute at most. You should have seen her the next day. Other than Worf, I haven’t seen an officer look that shaken aboard station in a long time. Even the ones that have lost friends have had time to adjust before they get here.”

“Worf is her ex-husband, correct?”

“Jadzia’s, yes. He’s not a suspect.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s one of the most honourable people in the entire galaxy. If he’d decided to kill Ilario, he’d have called him out, or barged in with a blade and attacked him up close, where he had a chance to defend himself. Not killed him from a distance with an obscure weapon.”

“I see.” Gard remarked. “Can I see the next scene, please.”

There was a lot more clutter in Vanderweg’s quarters. Statues. Knick-knacks. He estimated that there were crafts from at least a dozen planets represented. There was also another picture, this time, of a pair of smiling humans, one wearing a white dress.

“What’s this?” he asked, handing the image to Sisko.

“It’s a photo of her and her husband on their wedding day.” Sisko explained. “It plays a short loop.”

“Interesting.” Gard commented. “Did the two of them come into contact at all?”

“They were both in the science division. But they had very different specialisms. Vanderweg specialised in micropaleontology like her husband. Dax occasionally interacted with her when Jadzia was the lead science officer. But as far as I know, if she’d met Ezri at all, it was only in passing.

Gard thought over the information. Joran had had no obvious pattern for picking his victims. Even though he’d spent the best part of two lifetimes thinking about the case, he still had no idea how the twisted host had chosen them. If this was the same underlying behaviour pattern, there might not be a pattern here, either.

Even though there was one, single commonality between the scenes. There was one thing that was present in both. A photo of smiling people. It wasn’t much to go on...

“Has Dax talked about being lonely at all?” He asked. “Or about struggling to form friendships?”

“She’s linked into Jadzia’s friendship group very well.” Sisko said. “I’m not sure how many friends of her own she’s made, though. And I don’t think she’s been at the Tongo table since she arrived.”

“The Tongo table?” Gard asked, puzzled. “That’s a Ferengi game.”

“One Jadzia was very good at. Even Quark lost his trousers to her from time to time.”

“Quark being?”

“The proprietor of Quark’s. He’s a Ferengi. Jadzia and he were very definitely friends.”

“And Ezri?”

“I don’t know.” Sisko admitted. “I think they get on, but Ezri’s never given him Oo-Mox like Jadzia did when she wanted to get something out of him.”

“Oo-Mox?” Gard asked, cautiously.

“A very good way for humanoid females to get a Ferengi wrapped around their little finger. And I think it’s best left at that. And I certainly don’t want to know where Jadzia learnt it in the first place. Or Curzon, more likely.”

“Ah.” Gard knew when that meant ‘you don’t want to know’ and let the subject drop. “But she’s made no friends of her own since she arrived?”

“Other than lt. Ilario, not that I’m aware of.”

“Hmm. I need to see the third victim’s quarters, captain. It might help me confirm my theory.”

The walk to the bolian victim’s quarters allowed Gard to ponder a bit more. The only solid evidence against Dax was being caught, red-handed, firing a rifle at a Vulcan. Given all the other evidence, that would normally be enough to tie up the case, particularly if she wasn’t behaving like a sane, rational person. As it was… there was no way to tell.

“Captain…” he asked, carefully. “She has been continually monitored, correct?”

“Yes.” Sisko replied. “We’ve been keeping a close eye out for that. And she was wearing clothes when Odo arrested her.” Neither of them needed to say more. The idea of a Changeling being the killer was an outside option, but matters appeared to be well in hand. And neither of them would discuss that possibility in public.

“Excellent.” Gard stated, simply.

The bolian’s quarters were another contrast. Instead of being cluttered with treasures and mementoes, they were full of a busy life. PADDs littered the surfaces, along with a few small mementoes and gifts.

His eyes picked out what he was really looking for almost immediately.

Another photo.

The subject matter was far too similar to be a coincidence. A group of people, smiling happily at the imager.

“Captain.” He said. “I think we’ve got our connection between the three of them. They all had photos of themselves, happy, with others.”

“Does that eliminate Dax in any way?” Sisko asked.

“That depends on her motives.” Gard admitted. “If she’s shooting people for being happy and showing their emotions… or for having friends… it doesn’t.”

“  who’d really gone around the bend.” Sisko growled. “Exactly the same species as Dax claims the killer is. And that the person she shot is.”

“And there lies our problem.” Gard admittedly. “If Dax is a good enough profiler to make those connections, she’s good enough to fake them. And if she’s faking them… then her real motive could still be anything. Even killing for the sake of it.”

“Is there a way we can prove it?”

Gard hesitated for a long moment. “We could let Dax go.”

“Onto a space station full of potential victims? Not to mention what might happen if Dax isn’t the killer. I don’t want to be responsible for the death of a girl barely older than my son.”

Then his combadge chimed.

“Sisko, go ahead.” He responded, tapping the badge to accept the communication.

“ _Sir, I think you might want to pop down to the lab._ ” O’Brien’s voice said, over the communicator. “ _We’ve got something for you._ ”

“I’m on my way.”

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

When Sisko arrived in the lab, he was surprised to see a slightly motley collection of items spread out on the table in front of him.

A TR-116, with transporter attachment. Another one lay next to it.

Two exographic targeting arrays.

A hairbrush bearing a Starfleet insignia, with a plastic casing.

A blue science uniform, with five more and two sets of off-duty clothes next to it.

 “Well, Chief?” he asked. “What have you got?”

“Enough evidence to prove Dax is unlikely to be our killer.” The NCO replied. “The TR-116 from Dax’s quarters has been scrubbed of all forensic evidence except a handful of hairs on top of the stock. The TR-116 she was caught with has all the traces you’d expect. So does her uniform and the targeting array she was wearing. None of her other uniforms show any traces of residue, and her off-duty clothing is similarly clean. The targeting sensor and the hairbrush have also been scrubbed of everything except hairs.”

“So…”

“Either Dax predicted she’d be caught and set up a trail to make it look like she’s being framed… or she’s completely innocent.”

Gard didn’t say anything.

“So, you’re saying the evidence points to Dax being innocent?”

“It does, Sir.”

“Wonderful.” Sisko snapped. “If I let her out, and the killings begin again, I’ve got to bring her back in, knowing that she’ll be expecting us this time. And if she really isn’t the killer… and she knows who is…”

“Then we’ll almost certainly find her dead with a bullet in her chest at oh-six-hundred tomorrow.” Bashir completed. “I want to talk to her, anyway.”

“About?” Sisko asked.

“About… dinner.” Bashir admitted. “Even if it does have to be in the security holding cells. Plus it gives Joran a chance to reveal himself. Not to mention giving me a chance to apologise, of course.”

“Permission granted, Doctor.” Sisko couldn’t contain his grin. “Please don’t tell her we don’t suspect her any more. If we are dealing with Joran…”

“I understand. The only way we can prove we aren’t is to catch the real killer.”

“How?”

“I have an idea.” Odo said, having entered almost silently. “We need to get our killer to reveal themselves. We won’t catch them any other way.”

“Will Dax agree to it?”

“In a heartbeat, I’d imagine. But you’ll have to tell her she isn’t a suspect first.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is welcome


	7. Preparations

It’d taken Ezri hours of meditation to find her calm place.

Without access to her quarters, she couldn’t complete the ritual to get rid of Joran. Six hours of sappy romance films had been enough to silence him, however, even if she’d been forcing herself to watch.

She was more than slightly surprised when Sisko walked into the holding area, followed closely by Gard.

“I’ve got some good news, Old Man. You’re not free to go.” Sisko said. “But you’re no longer a suspect, either.”

Ezri gave her friend a rather confused look.

“We need you to help us with a plan. We’ll keep you as safe as possible, but I can’t promise everything will be fine.” Sisko continued, looking the frighteningly young Trill up and down. He could barely imagine putting Jake in such a situation, and even though Dax was more than three centuries older, she had fewer than nine months on his son in this body.

“What do you need me to do?” She asked.

“Be yourself. And spend another night in here, while we set a few things up.”

“Do I want to know?” Ezri asked.

“Only that we’re shaking the branches, old man.”

“So that’s a no.” She replied.

“We’ve decided on one thing, though. That it’s time for us to do something for you.” He clicked his fingers.

Rom entered the room, carrying a table, followed closely by one of the Ferengi staff from the bar hauling a pair of chairs. Quark soon followed, to her surprise. He was carrying a candelabra, complete with a pair of candles, with a tablecloth folded over his shoulder. A sly wink from Quark drew an answering smile from Ezri, as the Ferengi slipped something under the table cloth when no-one else was looking.

Before long, the corner of the holding area outside of her cells had been dressed into something resembling a French restaurant, straight out of Emony’s memories. To her surprise, Garak dipped in, briefly, holding a dress. She remembered once having spent a few seconds admiring the garment while walking past his shop with Kira.

To her surprise, the forcefield was lowered, and it was handed to her. Garak didn’t look away, which left her more than slightly disconcerted, given that he had a photographic memory. Sisko and Gard had turned their backs and were talking in low voices. Shrugging, she skinned out of her jumpsuit above her shoulders, sliding the dress on almost immediately. Once it was in place, she stepped out of the jumpsuit, before ducking down and offering it to Garak with a sly grin on her face.

The Cardassian tailor, refusing to be outdone, accepted the somewhat aromatic jumpsuit with a broad smile. “"Well, my dear Ezri, I don't think that's your colour in the slightest. And could I suggest some small adjustments, around the shoulders and maybe a little around the hips, as well?" He asked. “Although I will say that prison jumpsuits are rarely the most fetching garments, in my experience. Something about institutions seems to always dampen true style. Alas, we can only try, us artistes.”

Even Ezri couldn’t quite keep in the grin at the somewhat droll commentary.

“Now, about the accessories.” Garak said. “What would you say to some nerve agents? Perhaps a small flamethrower… or how about a weaponised hat?” Without preamble, he pulled out what looked like one of the little hats from Vic’s.

Much to her annoyance, Joran picked that moment to revive from his sappy-romance-induced coma. “Why not all three?” He asked. “And you can test them on this nuisance.” He glared at Gard.

Ezri couldn’t think of what to say for a few seconds. “Why would I want any of those for what I assume is supposed to be romantic meal?” She asked.

“Aren’t such times the best for an assassin to strike?” Garak asked. Ezri had seen him sparring with Julian enough times to recognise the tone and expression though.

“Not on a highly secure space station.” She replied, as Quark returned, muttering about how ‘two days without in-depth inspections of my goods is not nearly enough for this.” He laid out several layers of cutlery on the table, before stalking off again.

“What’s got to him?” She asked.

“The fact that he’s not being paid for this.” Sisko replied. “And… well…”

Ezri looked rather flummoxed at that.

Sisko let the matter drop. One Dax had known about Quark’s feelings. This one didn’t need to be reminded, if she’d even noticed .

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

“Do you think this is actually a good idea?” Bashir asked O’Brien. “And that it’s anything other than a convenient way of getting her to help?”

“I think you just answered your own question.” O’Brien replied. “If this wasn’t a good idea, why would Dax have agreed to it?”

“You’re right.” Bashir admitted. “I just don’t know if…”

“If what?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Chief.” Bashir spat, frustratedly. “Ever since she arrived… It’s been like it was before Worf turned up, but worse. I can’t stop thinking about her.”

“Can’t stop thinking about her…” O’Brien repeated. “I know what that feels like, all right.”

“She’s not Jadzia. I know that. But… she’s Dax. Sometimes, her brain seems to jump around like a trivia quiz. One second, she’ll be talking about something Emony did, and the next she’s complaining about how Worf is avoiding her. Or about how hard it is to figure out what you want to eat with eight lifetimes of memories to wade through.”

“And she’s easy to look at, of course.” O’Brien said, in a guileless voice, as if he was commenting on the weather or what jobs he’d got to do before he finished his shift.

“That’s an understatement. She’s beautiful. So was Jadzia…” Bashir trailed off suddenly. “What did you put in that raktajino?”

“A few drops of honesty.” The chief smiled. “Always works wonders with you reserved stuffy types, I’ve found.”

“Honesty?” Bashir asked. “Is that some sort of drug I haven’t heard of before?”

“No. It’s called ‘being open and honest.’”

“And I just admitted to myself… how I feel about Ezri… without even thinking about it.” Bashir muttered. “Is it normally that easy?”

“Only if you’re not emotionally constipated.” O’Brien commented.

“And how about you and Keiko?” Bashir retorted. “How long did it take you to ask her out, exactly?”

“Not six months, that’s for sure.” O’Brien shot back.

Bashir shook his head, before crossing to the wardrobe in his quarters. “Which one?” he asked, thumbing through his collection of assorted garments from the 20th century.

O’Brien picked out a garment without hesitation. “I think this one.” He said, holding up the tuxedo Bashir wore for adventures in his Cold War era spy holoprogram.

“Why?” Bashir asked.

“Because you associate it with being relaxed around women, for a start.”

“Miles, normally, when I’m wearing that, I’m waiting for someone to try and kill me.” Bashir objected.

“So what?” The NCO was unrepentant. “If you are sitting down to a meal with Joran, even if that is unlikely, at least you’ll be prepared.”

“That’s true.” Bashir admitted, stepping behind a partition while he pulled the suit on. “In the unlikely event that someone tries to kill me and Ezri over dinner, I will be fully prepared to spring into violent action immediately. Pistol.” He said.

O’Brien handed him what looked like a PPK. Bashir slipped it inside his jacket. The fact that this one in fact had been modified to contain the inner workings of a type-one phaser was an entirely separate matter.

Pulling on a pair of black leather wingtips, Bashir for a moment felt slightly ridiculous. He was a Starfleet officer, not a super-spy, regardless of how he dressed. He felt like he was wearing fancy dress on a date with one of the most desirable women he’d ever met.

He was actually grateful he was being ‘escorted’ by O’Brien. Otherwise, he silently admitted, he might have chickened out.

When he arrived, there was a triple candelabra carrying cream candles, all of which were lit. Around it, someone seemed to have transformed the station’s security holding area into a French restaurant. Waiting at the single table, Ezri was wearing a simple green dress, cut modestly and elegantly. There was barely a hint of cleavage, although it left her arms bare. She smiled at him, somewhat shyly.

“Julian.” She said. “This is so nice, isn’t it?”

“It has a certain charm to it.” He replied.

“Ben must have researched it.” She continued. “Emony had such fond memories of a place like this.”

“And of what happened afterwards, no doubt.” Then Bashir flushed slightly.

“She did rather enjoy that.” Ezri admitted, feeling her own cheeks warm. “But she was always emotional.”

“You’ve said.”

“I know. But it’s hard to keep track of these conversations. And of what I want to eat. And drink. And remembering that I don’t want to stand on my head.” She grinned, self-consciously. “And then you’ve got everything else at once, and you’re trying to remember that the TSC don’t need a report from you any more… that I don’t have any children right now… and that I’m not a man…”

“It gets overwhelming.” Bashir commented. “I can tell.”

“You have no idea. I’ve woken up wanting things that this body is allergic to. Or that I hate the taste of. And that isn’t as bad as when I tried to dismantle my sonic shower….”

“Miles said something about that. And how allergic exactly are you to these… things?” Bashir asked, cautiously, unable to help slipping into Doctor mode.

“It wasn’t working, and I thought I knew how to fix it. As it turned out, that fix doesn’t work on Cardassian showers, and I electrocuted myself. Not seriously. Just enough to make my hair stand on end.” Ezri paused to take a breath. “I’m not that allergic to them. If you hear me sneezing a lot, it’s because I decided I wanted to drink autumnflower wine.”

“I’ll make a note to give you an epishot in that case.” Bashir commented with a smile.

Then Rom arrived, carrying a bottle of wine. He offered it to Ezri, who recognised the ritual from several sets of memories. She nodded, before he poured a small amount of it into a wine glass. A small sip of the red allowed the smoky, lightly spiced flavour of Chateau Picard to flow over her tongue, bringing back a cluster of Emony-Memories. Combined with the soft scent of the candle smoke, she had to stamp on her own foot to remind herself she wasn’t remembering this. Even the fact that she was looking across the table at a painfully eager human seemed the same, for a second.

She nodded at the Ferengi, far more enthusiastically this time. He poured three fingers of the wine into each glass, before placing the bottle on the table. As he disappeared out of the room, Ezri couldn’t help asking the question.

“When did Rom learn to serve wine?” she asked, curiously. “Jadzia never saw him doing it.”

“Leeta.” Bashir replied, knowingly. “She has a taste for springwine.”

Ezri nodded her acknowledgement as she took another sip of the wine, before raising her glass to Bashir. “To friendship across lifetimes.” She said, as they clinked glasses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is welcomed  
> I had to spend some time looking for the break-point for this chapter. It was originally either 1300 words or 4000 words. Fortunately, there was somewhere to break it up neatly.


	8. Fine Dining

When Rom returned, he was carrying a large tray, loaded with several covered dishes. He placed two of them in front of each of the pair, before ceremonially removing the cloches. Ezri took a very short time to place the foodstuff in front of her.

“Julian…” she said. “Who set this menu, exactly? Not that I don’t like the choices, but it does feel like someone’s reminding me of something.”

“Captain Sisko, I believe.”

Ezri didn’t really know how to respond. Testing the escargot that had been placed in front of her, along with a small French salad, she discovered it almost certainly was not the product of a replicator. The salad, consisting of beetroot, salad leaves and potatoes with a hint of truffle and dressed with vinaigrette, tasted like the ingredients had been replicated, and it’d then been made by hand.

Across the table, Bashir was enjoying a plate laden with small squares of bread, clearly baked in an oven. She didn’t need to make much of an effort to smell the rich cheese aroma wafting from them.

“Cheese on toast?” she demanded, wondering when she’d become so relaxed around the human. It was probably the wine working its lubricating magic on proceedings. Before her joining, she’d never had much of a head for alcohol. Now, she seemed to be able to function (and make sensible decisions) with a few glasses of Saurian Brandy inside her. Although, knowing Quark, it was probably more than slightly watered down.

“Posh cheese on toast.” Bashir replied, grandly. “As served in the street cafes of Gay Paree itself for centuries.”

“What about escargot?” she asked, curiously. “Have you ever tried it?”

“Once.” Bashir replied. “And then I found out what it actually is.”

“What?” Ezri asked, spearing another forkful and popping it into her mouth. “Emony never actually asked.”

Bashir fished out his PADD, before handing her a picture of the living organism.

“Oh… um… yeah.” Ezri sputtered slightly, looking at the eyestalks and grey skin. “I thought the shells were just there to make the dish interesting. Well, Emony did… once she’d discovered you couldn’t eat them as well… Leonard gave her an odd look when she tried that. He was more curious about if she needed the minerals or something, though.” She blushed, remembering Emony’s embarrassment when she discovered that the shells weren’t even slightly edible.

“Ezri, we’re all tourists sometimes. Even if we do have three hundred years of experience. That’s not exactly the most bizarre thing I’ve seen a human do when sampling the cooking of another planet. Or the most dangerous, for that matter.”

Ezri gave him a beseeching look.

“Admittedly, the most dangerous thing I ever saw a human do was walk away without paying in Quark’s.” Both of them laughed at that. “Quark went after him, and it was only Odo who stopped him dragging him back into the bar and making him sign a contract in Ferengi.”

As they were talking, both suddenly realised that their hands were slowly drifting closer together. Bashir made a ‘Ummm…” noise, before taking far too close an interest in his remaining salad and single square of croque monsieur. Ezri didn’t really look up and cleared her platter of creamy escargot. The salad went down rapidly alongside it.

“So… what is this in aid of?” she asked, curiously, once the food was gone and the embarrassment had receded slightly. “Other than helping me relax, of course.”

“Well, Odo has a plan to catch the real killer.” Bashir said. “All he needs you to do is stay in your cell for another night and a bit of the day while we set things in motion.”

“Can he at least get me a better mattress?” Ezri groused. “Even Curzon… I’ve slept on worse… or was that Tobin? Whoever I was, I would like a better mattress tonight.”

“I’ll talk with the captain. The chief needs to make a couple of modifications to your cell. You’ll be perfectly safe.”

“And why wouldn’t I be?” Ezri demanded to know, fingering a dinner knife without really looking at it. Bashir tensed slightly, registering the length of the serrated, sharp blade and the fact it was clearly designed to cut meat.

“Stab him.” Joran urged her. She wasn’t quite sure why he wasn’t keeping up a running commentary, but the urge was suddenly strong. Something must have flicked onto her face, because Bashir’s hand moved with the same speed and coordination as when he’d broken her fall, disappearing under his jacket.

“No.” She said, firmly. “I won’t. He’s my friend.”

Bashir relaxed slightly, then more fully as Ezri moved her hand away from the worryingly sharp utensil. Looking at her more closely, he realised that the current overriding emotion wasn’t anger. It was embarrassment.

“Sorry, Julian.” Ezri said, not looking at the human. “Joran.”

“Ah. You said before that it was like having an annoying colleague following you around?”

“It’s worse. it’s more like having a murderous psychopath in your head, who spends his time manipulating your emotions.”

Bashir’s hand shot out, almost faster than she had previously imagined, dropping on top of her right hand where it sat on the table. “If there’s anything I can do to help…” he offered, startled at how cold her hand was, before remembering that Trill hands were always cold.

“You’re already helping, Julian.” Ezri admitted. “Remember when I said about how if Worf hadn’t turned up…”

“Jadzia would have accepted one of my dinner invitations.” Bashir completed. “I believe that.”

“That was probably the wine talking.” Ezri said, after a moment of heavy silence. “We’ve had most of the bottle.”

“That wouldn’t have affected Jadzia’s judgement. And it isn’t affecting mine.”

“I’m not Jadzia!” Ezri interjected, hotly. “I’m shorter. I’m less attractive. I haven’t got curves. I’ve just got a face that boys seem to associate with their kid sister’s best friend. Emony had more curves than me. And Audrid did before her children… agghhh!” she hissed, suddenly resting her head in her hands, elbows resting on the tablecloth.

“Ezri…” Bashir said. “You know the sort of holoprograms I hang out in with Miles and Odo. They’re not exactly filled with anything other than traditional beauties. Tall, curvaceous… busty… utterly without morals or qualms...”

Ezri looked up, before nodding silently, waiting for the shoe to drop.

“Well, this is probably the wine talking, but you’re more desirable than any of those girls.”

“What?” Ezri demanded. “Why?”

“Because you’re you.” Bashir said. “You’re walking around with eight lifetimes of memories in your head. You’ve had no training in how to organise those. And all you get is space-sickness, trouble ordering in the replimat and occasional issues staying on topic. Some Trill would literally kill to have what you’ve got.”

Ezri glared at him. “I never wanted a symbiont!” she shouted. “I never even put the form in on my twelfth birthday, unlike every other Trill in the galaxy. All I wanted was to be free of all the expectations being a Trill places on you and get away from my family. And then the Destiny was sent to transport the Dax symbiont back to Trill, and before I know it, there’s a changeling impersonating my boyfriend and trying to kill me, and then I’m in an operating theatre with a choice between letting Dax die, or giving up my entire self to one of the brain vampires I spent my entire life hating!”

“Why did you accept the symbiont, then?” Bashir asked.

“Because… I’m a Trill.” Ezri admitted. “And because I was alive, and I thought Brinner wasn’t. And because there wasn’t a decision.” She blushed. “When it came to it, the captain refused to order me to become joined. She said that it was my decision. And I thought about the fact I’d been given a second chance at life. That the changeling should have replaced me instead of Brinner. And then I realised that there was only one choice Ezri Tigan could make. Even if it went against everything I’d ever thought I believed, until that moment…”

“Becoming Ezri Dax.” Bashir completed.

“Giving up who I was… to become this…!” Ezri sobbed. “Confused. Spacesick whenever I ride in a runabout. Struggling with emotions that aren’t even my own. Wanting to have a relationship with a Klingon… with another Trill… even though they’d… be wrong.”

“You still have feelings for Worf.” Bashir said. “I understand.”

“He’s been doing nothing but avoid me ever since I arrived. Even when we have talked, he treats me differently to how he treated Jadzia before our relationship… her relationship with him.”

“Ezri.” Bashir said, before she stood up, abruptly.

“Just, don’t say anything. Not for a few minutes.” Ezri said, taking another sip of wine, before darting forwards, sending Bashir’s hand flashing towards his holstered phaser. Before it arrived, though, he processed a dozen other context clues. Every single one of his senses, fine-tuned in the holosuite, told him this was anything but an attack.

Then Ezri arrived. Bashir had no idea how to react as Ezri wrapped herself around him, pulling his shoulders down. The next movement was a lot shyer. Her head came up towards his, and he realised what was about to happen just before her lips touched his.

Bashir froze. On the one hand… even he couldn’t help but admit that he wanted this. That he wanted Dax. But he also knew that this wasn’t the sexually confident Jadzia, the highly intelligent and perfectly collected chief science officer. This was Ezri. Who’d just admitted to him that she was regularly confused about who she even was.

And then he realised that she trusted him enough to tell him these things. Even after what’d happened with the THIP.

He wrapped his arms around Ezri, pulling her closer, and returned the kiss before she had time to break away.

Eventually, she needed to breathe.

“Oh.” She said, slightly startled. “That’s what Jadzia was missing out on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is welcomed


	9. Bluff

“Ezri…” Bashir said. “Why?”

“Because I can.” She responded, sticking out her tongue. “And because I need to make sure Dax gets as many interesting experiences as possible. And because…” She petered off.

“Say no more. I know exactly what you mean.”

Ezri didn’t quite know where to go after that thought. Jadzia would probably have dragged Julian straight into the cell there and then. Emony would probably have waited until they were somewhere private, then pounced. Lela wouldn’t have dreamt of making that sort of advance in public. Audrid… Audrid would probably have been a bit more reserved, but still made her feelings clear.

“Curzon has a lot to answer for.” She said. “Before him, Dax’s were… even counting Emony, less…”

“Less likely to try and start short relationships?” Bashir completed.

“Or relationships generally. They settled more.” She stammered, before realising what she’d just said, and looking away. “Even Emony.”

“I see.” Bashir observed.

Before it got even more uncomfortable, Rom returned with a second tray of dishes and another bottle of wine. Bashir was presented with a steak, accompanied by a red wine sauce, julienned potatoes and garden vegetables. Ezri found herself with a Bouillabaisse, which appeared to have been made using white fish, some form of tuna, and what appeared to be part of an eel. The fish portions of the dish were served on a side plate, with the broth and vegetables in a large bowl.

With their glasses full, Rom left them to it.

“Who set the menu?” She asked, curiously.

“Captain Sisko.” Julian replied. “He knew you for two lifetimes, after all.”

Ezri didn’t quite know how the human was able to anticipate her orders so precisely. Then she remembered telling him about Emony’s trip to Earth. He’d probably… she sighed. He’d also known Dax for twenty-six years, in one host or another.

“Ben needs to stop digging that deep.” She muttered. “Curzon would have replaced his next six care packages if he had done something like this to him.”

“What was he like?”

“Ben?”

“Yes. What was he like as a junior office?”

“Impulsive. Brash. Somewhat foolhardy.” Ezri smiled, fondly. “I once had to talk him out of walking into the headquarters of the Tal Shiar to try and convince them to let a member of the Federation embassy staff go. He actually thought he could manage it.” She giggled slightly. “I shouldn’t talk about my commanding officer like this, Julian.”

“It’s fine.” Bashir observed. “He knows you have these stories. If anything, I think he likes to hear them as well. Except the one with the Orion pirates.”

“Oh… Creator.” Ezri swore, unable to hold in the laughter. “That was… brilliant.”

“How exactly did you get him out of that fix?”

“I… that is, Curzon may have replicated a Starfleet captain’s uniform, wandered onto the bridge, and commed them while standing in front of the command chair. He told them that we’d open fire on their transports unless he was released.”

“You didn’t…”

“Yep.” Ezri admitted. “And they bought it.”

“How did the bridge watch react?”

“I seem to remember several of them making comments such as ‘Phasers locked and ready, Captain.’”

“And how did the ship’s real captain react when he came out of his ready room?” Bashir asked, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

“He suggested that Curzon should mention such plans to him. And that he take the rank insignia off before he noticed them.”

Bashir held up his glass of wine. “To Curzon.” He toasted. “The finest scam artist in galactic history.”

Ezri solemnly raised her glass and clinked it against Bashir’s.

“Now, Julian…” She said. “What exactly is this plan of Ben’s?”

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

When he woke up, Chu’lak was surprised that his desk terminal was chiming for attention. When he crossed over to it, Doctor Bashir had left him a message. The human looked slightly hung over, but fully functional.

“I’d like you to come in for a follow-up appointment.” He said, without preamble. “Impact trauma can be more problematic in the long term than phaser burns, which means I want to check how the wound is healing.”

Chu’lak went through his routine quickly. Sonic shower. Clothing. A mug of plomeek soup. Then he was out of the door, chewing a flavourless dentacleanse. The corridors seemed slightly livelier, much to his displeasure. People seemed to already be recovering, now that meddling Trill had found herself facing therapy, or whatever the Bajoran primitives would do to her. How she’d realised it was him, he had no idea. He’d almost silenced her. She’d have been another victim. He’d have had to take out the terminal behind her as well, which would have been a shame. The equipment was blameless, after all. But he couldn’t have allowed her to be found in a room with a rifle and his name on a terminal. The logic demanded it.

When he arrived at the human doctor’s office, the man didn’t notice him for a few moments. “Yes, Sir. I got the authorisation through this morning from Starfleet Command. The Bisodiumtripentathol Hydrazine should help clear things up. Ah, I need to go. My Oh-six-ten is here.”

He filed the name of the drug away for later. “What was that about?” He asked.

“Something the captain wanted me to synthesise.” The doctor, Bashir, if he remembered correctly, said. “Let’s have a look at your shoulder.” The man ran a scanner over it, focusing intently on the readout. “You’re healing fine. Don’t use the arm much for a few more days, and you’ll be right as rain.”

“Is there any news on this Trill who shot me and the others?” He asked.

“She hasn’t confessed.” Bashir said, cautiously. “But we should be able to change that now. Keep taking your painkillers and don’t use that arm.” Then he hustled Chu’lak out of the infirmary.

The Vulcan hesitated for a few moments, before heading back to his quarters, slightly faster than he’d walked to the infirmary.

Once he was back in his quarters, he put the name of the drug the doctor had mentioned into the station database.

The first article that came up was enough to shake his emotional control.

“Bisodiumtripentathol Hydrazine…” he read. “One of the few known narcotics that prevents almost all species living in federation space from giving false information. It is rarely used, however, due to the potential side effects, which include cardiac failure. However, due to the nature of the tests carried out on it, evidence collected while a subject is under its influence is admissible in all Federation courts and those of affiliated species.”

If they were going to give… he thought a moment… Ezri, that substance… they’d catch him immediately. He thought about replicating another rifle for a second. But logic told him that wouldn’t work. If she was killed in her cell using the signature weapon that was ascribed to her… the manhunt would begin anew. And this time, they’d have a very small pool of suspects.

Which meant he needed to make it look like she’d escaped and gone to ground.

After that, he could allow the logic to make its demands again. Everyone would believe it was Ezri. That she was the killer. That she was still on the station, hiding where security could not find her. And he would be permanently above suspicion.

The first thing he did was replicate a large, wheeled black hardshell case. While her bodyweight wouldn’t be an obstacle to someone with a Vulcan’s strength, carrying a bag that size and weight down the promenade was bound to attract notice. A wheeled case would be easier, and less noticeable.

Then he headed out again. He knew what he had to do now.

He had to kill Ezri Dax and make her body disappear forever.

Walking back down the promenade, case in tow, he waited for his chance, sitting in the replimat watching the front of the security office.

From Quark’s, he heard the sounds of Klingon arguing. Hopefully, that would be his distraction, he thought. Klingon arguments usually led to Klingon brawls.  Klingon brawls usually required dozens of the station militia to contain and subdue the parties involved. When the first glass smashed, he stood up, before walking towards the security office, watching in satisfaction as his logic was rewarded. The office was completely empty. He was safe. No Cardassian would ever have installed cameras in a detention area where they might record embarrassing things.

Stepping through the door, he saw his near-killer, sitting with her knees tucked into her chest and her back against the wall. The bunk she was sitting on was clearly uncomfortable, particularly for such an illogical creature.

With a glance, he checked the other cells. The only cell that was occupied contained a Klingon, dressed in a leather uniform and snoring like a rock drill. He was clearly unconscious, so he paid no more heed. The Klingon was no threat.

Dax had spotted him in the moment he spent casing the room. The sudden panic in her face told him everything about how inferior the illogical were. A Vulcan would have been preparing to fight back, not huddling more deeply into the corner of her cell. She was weak, because of that lack of logic. One of her arms dropped, then hovered.

He decided to make it quick. Wrap one arm around hers and grip her head. Then just twist it to one side, all the way around. Tilt it sideways, and the spinal cord would be completely severed.

He allowed himself a small smile as he moved towards the cell.

Shutting down the forcefield, he found that he was as much in control as he was when looking down the scope of a rifle. Except he had more. The fear… the knowledge that she was about to die… he could practically taste the emotions.

Reaching out, he grabbed her arms as she tried to bat him away, twisting them around behind her and holding them there, useless. His hand settled on the front of her head as he pulled her in close, savouring her struggles. The sense of her desperation was intoxicating, as he began to slowly twist her neck. She shouted a single word, desperately. A loved one, he assumed.

“WORF!!!!”

Before he had time to apply more force, to complete his revenge, it suddenly all went black.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Glaring across the brig, Ezri gave Worf an unimpressed stare. “I didn’t know the plan called for him to almost snap my neck before you intervened.”

“You could have used the emergency forcefield to shield yourself.” Worf growled. “You froze.”

“It’s a long time since I’ve been in a small room with a man who wanted to kill me.” Ezri snapped. “The last time it happened involved Jadzia. And she had a phaser.”

“He could have noticed you carrying a sidearm.” Worf retorted.

“And if he hadn’t been so sadistic, you’d be rushing me to the infirmary, so Julian could try and put my spine back together before brain-death set in!”

“We can now prove he intended to kill you.” Worf stated.

“Geez… Thanks.” Ezri muttered. “At least we can talk about it.”

“Your reaction is not that of a warrior.”

“No. Because I’m a counsellor, Worf. Regardless of who Jadzia was. I can use a phaser. I just don’t want to. Not when I can avoid it.”

Noticing Ezri reaching for the PADD on her bunk, Worf half-raised his phaser again, but realised that using it on Ezri would only make things worse when she came to.

Then she paused. “I don’t know which of me wants to throw this at you, Worf.” She admitted. “But I know Jadzia would.”

“You are not Jadzia.” Worf pointed out, before quickly ducking to one side as the device whistled past his head, thrown overarm by the incredibly angry Trill. A volley in their second shared language told him exactly what she thought of his decision making.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to studying, the final chapter will not appear until Friday 22nd


	10. Forwards

A few moments later Bashir hurried in, attracted by the shouting. The sight of Ezri, clearly squaring up to Worf, with a PADD lying on the floor behind the Klingon told enough of the story that Bashir knew exactly what had happened.

He also knew that she was probably quite angry enough to go after Worf. And that she was angry enough that Worf would have to defend himself in earnest.

“What happened?” He asked, hoping to at least redirect Ezri away from Worf until she’d calmed down.

“This baQa' nga'chuq baktag just nearly let me get my neck broken!” Ezri explained loudly, not seeming to notice her lapse into Klingon and advancing on Worf, who, much to Bashir’s surprise, was backing away. “Just so we could prove he intended to kill me!”

“Ezri…” Bashir said, trying to defuse the situation.

Fortunately, he was saved by the sound of running feet.

“Stand down, Old Man!” Sisko ordered. “It’s over. Worf…”

Ezri froze for a few moments, allowing Sisko to move between them.

“I apologise.” Worf said. “I should have prevented him from laying hands on you.”

Ezri’s mouth worked for a few seconds, before she closed it, turned decisively on her heel, and marched over to Bashir. The human barely had time to react before she was wrapped around him, one arm pulling him down to her level, and standing on tip-toe. Then her lips slammed into his, and his arms clamped her against him.

The kiss went on long enough to be uncomfortable to everyone except the two involved.

Worf growled, taking a step forwards before Sisko fixed him in place with a glare.

As soon as the kiss was over, Ezri began trembling, uncontrollably. Wrapping his arms around her, Bashir hurried her in the direction of the infirmary. She didn’t resist in the slightest.

Once she was inside, he went straight into doctor mode. The first thing he did was to double-check her spinal column. If that’d somehow been damaged, he’d need to act immediately. A few moments with the tricorder showed that it was intact. The interesting neural activity patterns would have to wait. Even compared to her baseline, there were new patterns in her brainwaves that hadn’t been there before.

“Ezri!” He said, speaking slightly more loudly than usual. “You need to stay in here for a couple of hours.”

She didn’t reply, or object. She was shaking, uncontrollably. Fastening a monitor bracelet around her wrist, he began the best treatment he knew. “Computer, large Tea, builder’s, Hot, two sugars, cup two thirds full.”

A few moments later, he was pushing the large mug into her hands, the soothing smell of the tea rising from the cup along with the curls of steam. She wrapped her hands around the mug, absorbing the warmth through the ceramic. Even with her jitters, she was able to support the tea without spilling it.

He sat down behind her, not close enough to intrude, but close enough for her to know he was there. After a few moments, she leant back, resting herself against him.

Staring down into her blue eyes, Julian was struck by how different the look in them was, compared to Jadzia’s eyes. It was softer, warmer, and more open. 

“I’m not sure I like being short.” She said, her tone telling him she was joking. “Everyone gets to look down at me, and I have to look up at people I’m used to looking down towards.”

“Is that the worst thing about being Dax?” He asked. “Remembering what it’s like to be tall?”

She swatted at him, playfully. “The worst thing about Dax,” she said. “Is Joran.” She glared suddenly at an empty space. “Shut UP!” Her voice was significantly more forceful than a moment earlier.

“He’s still here?”

“Until I complete the ritual to get rid of him again.” Ezri admitted. “Which I couldn’t do in my cell, even with the mirror.”

Already, Bashir could tell that the conversation was having the desired effect of calming Ezri down a lot. With her sipping her tea, he just let the conversation flow, touching on areas that had little to do with anything at all.

After three hours or so, Bashir made the medical decision that Ezri could be safely discharged from the DS9 Infirmary.

“Yes, you can leave.” He told her.

Ezri smiled girlishly, before putting down the PADD she’d replicated when his back was turned. “You mean you don’t want to know why you had such a thing for Jadzia?” she asked, teasingly.

“While I’m sure it’d be fascinating, I’m not particularly keen to know at this moment.” Bashir replied, smiling broadly at the signs of a resumption of normal service.

She grinned, before darting in for a kiss.

“When you finish your shift…” she said, after about thirty seconds, having broken off in order to breathe. “Come to my quarters. There are some things I want to show you. And something I want you to see.”

Another, shorter kiss followed. “You wouldn’t happen to have one of my uniforms?” she asked Bashir.

“I fetched one last night.” He admitted. “And I asked Major Kira to sort out the rest of what you’d need. It’s through in the ‘fresher.” He didn’t add anything more.

Ezri scooted through the small doorway, and into the sonic shower, discarding her prison jumpsuit almost before the door was closed. The sensation of the vibrations scrubbing away the last three days of her life was almost as liberating as the moment she’d walked out of security on her way to medbay.

She spent a few minutes just luxuriating in the sensation, allowing herself to process what’d happened, why, and close it off. It wouldn’t all be behind her forever, of course. She knew she’d sometimes wake up in the moment where she’d thought she was about to die. That would be a part of her now, and a part of any future Dax, the same way she carried the worst memories of the eight previous hosts.

The uniform Bashir had picked out for her was one she’d brought with her from the Destiny. It’d been through a few more laundry cycles than some of her other uniforms and was slightly softer. It wasn’t the most comfortable one she owned, though. That honour went to a uniform she’d received from Garak, with a somewhat sarcastic apology for his behaviour when she’d first come aboard. Although (and she’d checked) it met all of the requirements for a Starfleet uniform, it was sinfully comfortable and fitted like a glove. It was also currently living in an evidence bag until her possessions were returned. Kira had selected… she smiled at the Bajoran’s choices. They would do very nicely once she got Julian alone.

She had a few things to sort out first, though. She was still missing her combadge, for now.

“Computer.” She said. “Locate Lieutenant Commander Worf.”

“Lieutenant Commander Worf is in Holosuite Four.”

“Of course he is.” She muttered. “Mul toDSaH.”

Almost as soon as she stepped through the doors, she spotted him, in one of the booths, nursing a prune juice. It had several ice cubes visible in the top of it, and he appeared to be resting his head on the drink.

“nuqneH, wo'rIv. tlhap ba'taH?” She asked, standing next to the booth.

“Why do you insist on speaking Klingon?” he asked, growling under his breath. “Are you deliberately trying to remind me of Jadzia?”

“No, Worf. I’m trying to help you feel at ease.” Ezri replied.

"You are only reminding me of Jadzia." Worf said.

"Well I'm sorry that I can't do much to help that." Ezri retorted. "And at least we're as good as ever at arguing about things."

Worf started to say something, and then stopped. "At least some of her fire survives in you." He observed, his tone softer. "That is something I can't help admiring."

"Nearly everything about her survives in me, Worf." Ezri admitted. "I can see you through her eyes just as easily as my own."

"But you also have feelings for the Doctor."

"Ezri Dax has a massive crush on Julian." She said, feeling like she was slightly disassociating herself from it. "Jadzia Dax still loves her husband utterly. But she had feelings for Julian as well, even if he was often annoying."

"What are you driving at?" Worf demanded.

"I'm trying to help you understand my situation." Ezri replied. "Worf, there is a part of me that desires you more than anything else in the galaxy. Just like another part of me, right now, wants to spend the rest of this lifetime at Julian's side. And he's going to have to come to terms with that. Just like you are about all the things that I do which remind you of Jadzia."

"Your analysis is most astute." Worf observed, after she'd stopped speaking. "It will be hard for me to remember that there is more to you than her, but it is the honourable thing to do."

"And you're possibly the most honourable man in the galaxy." Ezri said, putting a teasing edge into her voice. "And possibly the most frustratingly bone-headed, stubborn and rigid as well."

"I can be flexible." Worf said, his tone slightly offended. "I went swimming on Risa with Jadzia."

"After causing a major economic disaster." Ezri retorted. "It's fortunate for you that the Risans don't hold grudges."

"I agree that my behaviour was not appropriate while I was on Risa." Worf stated. "But you were flirting with everything in sight."

"Jadzia was. And you know that was her way. And that you were being far too suspicious of her."

"I won't deny that my behaviour was wrong."

"At least you're admitting it."

"Why wouldn't I admit being wrong?" Worf asked.

"Because your skull is usually thicker than the main armour layer on the Defiant." Ezri retorted. "And about as dense."

"And you are usually confusing, absent-minded and incapable of staying on topic." Worf retaliated. "However, for Doctor Bashir, I cannot see that being a problematic trait."

It wasn't long before the conversation became more amiable. And to Ezri's great surprise, Joran didn't stick his metaphorical oar into her train of thought once.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

As she left Vic's, Ezri wasn't remotely suprised to find Gard waiting for her.

"There's a knife on the table, just next to your right hand." Joran immediately informed her. "If you insert it between his third and fourth ribs, pointing upwards, he won't stand a chance."

Rather than allowing the incitement to provoke her, or acting on it, Ezri glanced over at the other host, allowing a wry smile to cross her face.

"Joran?" He asked.

"Joran." She replied. "Being his usual... annoying self."

"Dax, you are aware a note will be placed in your TSC file about this?" Gard asked.

"You mean the unauthorised rite of emergence, which resulted in one of the most dangerous serial killers in our history being unleashed on the mind of an untrained host?" Ezri asked, wondering exactly where this massive strain of flippancy had come from. Jadzia, probably.

"Yes."

"I have him under control."

"You think you do." Gard said, almost sadly, as they walked towards the shuttlepads. "Ezri... accessing Joran's memories... letting him out like this... it's playing with antimatter. If you slip... if he finds a lever he can pull..."

"I understand." Ezri admitted. "This was a mistake. I know that. But it saved lives. It probably saved my life."

"No one can predict the fall of the blossom." Gard observed. "You took a risk. This time that risk paid off. But you know how dangerous Joran Dax was."

“Intimately.” Ezri said, feeling ashamed in that moment.

“The road into the underlands is paved with the best intentions.” Gard commented. “But…” he continued, pausing. “I think, had Ezri Tigan entered the initiate program, she would not be Ezri Dax, today. But she would be carrying another symbiont, without a shadow of a doubt.”

Ezri glanced down at the floor, feeling a massive blush overwhelming her face.

“You’ve taken on a symbiont with some of the strongest-willed hosts in history, Ezri.” Gard said, kindly. “You’ve retained your sense of self, and you’re still in control of your own mind. And you achieved that without any formal training.”

Ezri realised that she couldn’t look at the other Trill.

“I’m sure Audrid’s memories tell you how rare this is. Well done, Ezri Dax.” He held out his hand.

She took his hand, feeling the firm, genuine handshake.

“I’m sure this won’t be the last time we meet.” He said, standing outside the entrance to the docking port for his shuttle. “But I look forward to the next. And hope it is under better circumstances.”

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Rubbing his face, Sisko resisted the urge to sigh. Odo’s plan had succeeded, but he wasn’t entirely sure about the costs. Technically, placing a fictional entry in the database was a breach of Starfleet regulations, even to catch a murderer. And then there was Quark’s. Odo, disguised as a Klingon, had walked in and informed a particularly large Klingon that his mother had produced him after a relationship with a Fek'Ihri, immediately succeeding in starting a massive brawl which had decimated the bar’s furniture, glassware and resulted in the stunning of seventeen Klingons. Explaining to General Martok the genesis of that particular detail was something he expected to be associated with a headache.

And then there was Ezri. The little Trill had come through without injury, but Sisko had been able to see the slight distance in her eyes. She’d spent the next three hours in the infirmary, perched on the examination table, with a biofunction monitor on her wrist, and Bashir fussing around her. After she’d stopped shaking, she’d headed straight for the holosuite, and Vic’s.

Worf had also been in Vic’s at the time. To his surprise, the conversation had, reportedly, actually been civil. Worf had actually apologised by himself, and had, according to Vic, who Sisko was sure shouldn’t be sending him memos, and spent several hours talking with Ezri in a corner booth.

Looking out of his office door, he could see her crossing Ops, wearing her uniform again, although not her combadge. Worf glanced up, and they exchanged smiles, and a nod from the big Klingon. He didn’t wait for her to ring the bell to his office, simply opening the doors as she started up the steps.

She halted in front of his desk, holding out a PADD. “My formal request to be returned to duty, Captain.”

Sisko reached out, and took it, scanning it quickly. “Everything seems to be in order. Carry on, Lieutenant.”

She smiled, before turning and leaving, pulling her combadge out of a pocket and affixing it to the front of her uniform as she went.

Gard had left almost as soon as Chu’lak had been apprehended. With his own spacecraft, and his ‘charge’ exonerated, there’d been no reason for him to stay a moment longer than he needed to. The Vulcan killer was already on his way to Vulcan, aboard a Starfleet supply ship with a secure holding area, to receive therapy from the experts.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he decided to get the call to General Martok out of the way, and pulled up the communications array, before hailing the Klingon flagship.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

“I appreciate you letting me stay for this, Ezri.” Julian said, looking at the cluster of Trill spiritual paraphernalia in the centre of her quarters. The bowl of mud was particularly interesting, especially when she lit a flame underneath it, before moving to stand in front of her mirror.

“I'nora, ja'kala vok… Zheem Dax... nah sass-eye-ahn... 'za-oo bah-zheest... Joran rhee jehr hey-dah...” Then she paused. “I know.” She said, before pausing again, as if someone else was speaking to her. “I’ll be careful. Tu Dax noh zhian 'vok... j'zui... ... Joran Rhem Tanas... Ezri.”

“What was that about?” Bashir asked.

“Joran wanted to remind me that he’s a part of me now. Possibly more than the others.”

“And that scares you.” Bashir observed.

“I walk around with a serial killer in my head.” Ezri admitted, crossing to and sitting on her bed. “One of the least successful in the history of murderous joined trill, admittedly. But he killed three people before they stopped him. And just having him… out… for a few hours was enough to nearly make me kill someone.”

“But you didn’t.” Julian said, sitting down next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You stopped yourself. And, to tell you the truth, you probably wouldn’t have done any real damage anyway. The human chest is designed to protect the vital organs. Kneeling on top of someone and stabbing them is spectacular, but it doesn’t kill people as much as you’d think. Unless you’d hit the aorta or the heart, I’d have been able to save him.” Then he wrapped an arm around her. “Now. I think that this calls for a celebration tonight. Without synthehol. Just the two of us, and a bottle of wine.”

“Are you sure?” Ezri asked.

“Absolutely.” Bashir replied, leaning over. “I don’t think anyone is going to object to us taking one night off, after all. Let’s see what happens, whatever it brings.”

Then their lips met, deliberately. And this time, both of them knew that it wasn’t anything other than their own personal decision. And that whatever happened that night would be theirs, and theirs alone.

**-FINIS-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the end of this story, but not my ideas for this pairing, and places I can take them together.


End file.
